ikY*1  ue 


FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET 


BY 


CARROLL   WINCHESTER 


'  O  them  child  of  many  prayers, 
Lite  hath  quicksands,  life  hath  snares.' 


BOSTON 
LEE   AND    SHEPARD    PUBLISHERS 

NEW  YORK  CHARLES  T.  pILLINGHAM 
1880 


COPYRIGHT, 

1880, 
BT    LEE   AND    SHEPARD. 

Ml  Rights  Reserved. 


Electrotyped  at  the  Boston  Stereotype  Foundry, 
No.  4  Pearl  Street. 


CONTENTS: 


CHAPTER   I.  PAGE 

A  SUMMER'S  DAY, 7 

CHAPTER  II. 
A  SUMMER  EVENING, .        .    31 

CHAPTER  III. 
A  HARTFIELD  KETTLE-DRUM, 43 

CHAPTER  IV. 
AFTER  THE  STEED  WAS  STOLEN,         .        .        .        .     54 

CHAPTER  V. 
THE  WEDDING, 75 

CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  COMING  ON  OF  NIGHTFALL,          ....    85 

CHAPTER  VII. 
HARTFIELD  ONCE  MORE, 101 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
HAPPY  DAYS, 113 

17821?! 


O  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   IX. 
A  NEW  WORLD, 125 

CHAPTER   X. 
THE  SELECT  FEW,        .......     149 

CHAPTER  XI. 

MRS.    HOWLAND   IN   A   NEW   R6LE,         ....       165 

CHAPTER  XII. 
MADGE  ANDERSON  AGAIN, 202 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
THE  SISTERS  MEET  AT  LAST, 222 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

OUTREMER 239 

CHAPTER  XV. 
EDGE-TOOLS, 258 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
A  LAST  WALK, 272 


FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 


CHAPTER   I. 
A  SUMMER'S  DAY. 

FIVE  o'clock,  on  an  August  afternoon.  Under 
the  branches  of  "the  great  elm  lay  an  island  of 
cool,  deep  green,  in  contrast  with  the  vivid  color 
without,  but  flecked  with  bits  of  light,  as  the 
leaves  parted  in  the  soft  breeze.  The  two  girls 
sitting  on  the  bench  which  circled  the  huge  tree- 
trunk  looked  as  if  they  were  enjoying  to  the  full 
the  peace  and  loveliness  about  them,  each  in  her 
own  way,  —  one  with  a  piece  of  fancy-work,  the 
other  with  a  book,  —  the  final  reward  of  the  day's 
labor. 

The  summer  visitors  at  Hartfield,  who  some- 
times stopped,  as  they  returned  from  their  af- 
ternoon drive,  for  the  strawberries,  and  the  but- 
ter and  the  cream,  for  which  the  Anderson  farm 
was  famous,  quite  envied  the  tranquil  calm  per- 
vading everything  about  the  place,  and  said,  as 
they  drove  away,  "  Really,  it  is  rather  an  enviable 

7 


8  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

life  those  girls  lead  at  that  beautiful  farm-house. 
No  hard  work  about  it,  evidently ;  for  in  those 
pretty  print  dresses  they  look  as  fresh  as  their 
fruit.  And  who  do  you  suppose  suggested  to 
them  what  an  apotheosis  of  butter  it  is  to  lay  it 
on  the  grape-leaf?"  And  it  never  occurred  to 
them  that  the  delightful  afternoon's  leisure  had 
been  earned  by  a  morning  of  work  which  would 
have  made  every  city-bred  bone  in  their  bodies 
ache. 

For  a  day  at  the  Anderson  farm-house  was  a 
long  one,  beginning  sometimes  before  the  purple 
light  on  the  mountain  had  changed  to  crimson. 
At  an  hour  known  only  to  herself  and  the  birds 
came  a  heavy  step  on  the  stairs,  and  the  kitchen 
shutters  were  thrown  open  by  Nancy.  The  step 
had  been  a  light  one  when  she  first  came  to  the 
farm,  a  mere  girl,  half  frightened  and  very  proud, 
to  help  the  young  farmer's  pretty  wife  ;  now,  as 
a  middle-aged  woman,  she  was  part  and  parcel  of 
the  household,  and  that  wide,  sunny  kitchen  would, 
she  hoped,  be  her  home  for  the  rest  of  her  days. 

Not  very  long  after  her  appeared  the  farmer. 

"No  very  great  need  nowadays,"  he  said, 
"  that  he  should  be  up  with  the  sun."  Still 
his  eyes  were  open,  and  he  might  as  well  use 
them  to  see  what,  after  all,  was  the  pleasantest 
part  of  the  day. 

But  no  need  at  all  for   Hester  and  the  girls 


A    SUMMER  S    DAY.  9 

to  bestir  themselves  quite  so  early.  The  men 
might  be  the  better  for  his  eye  over  them, 
but  with  Nancy  up  and  doing  they  could  afford 
to  take  their  ease.  Ease  to  Mrs.  Anderson  did 
not  mean  lying  in  .bed  on  a  bright  summer 
morning,  and  soon  the  house  was  fairly  awake  ; 
the  mother  in  her  dairy,  to  receive  the  pails  of 
milk,  and  Rachel  here  and  there  among  her  poul- 
try, and  then  with  a  helping  hand  to  Nancy  in 
the  last  preparations  for  breakfast. 

On  this  particular  morning,  as  they  all  gath- 
ered from  dairy  and  barn  and  chicken-yard,  at  the 
sound  of  the  big  bell  rung  by  Nancy  on  the  porch, 
there  was  a  vacant  place  at  the  breakfast-table. 

David  coming  in,  with  a  kindly,  gruff  "  good- 
morning,"  glanced  at  the  chair  next  his,  and  said, 
"  Madge  not  well  ? "  And  then  his  uncle  fol- 
lowed with,  "  Where's  the  child  this  morning  ? " 
Nancy,  who  was  setting  a  dish  on  the  table,  has- 
tened to  say,  "  She  was  so  tired,  the  dear  thing, 
last  night,  that  she  had  to  take  a  little  extry  sleep 
this  mornin'."  And  Rachel,  as  if  she  were  the 
person  to  apologize  for  Madge's  shortcomings, 
added,  "  I  thought  she  might  sleep  another  half- 
hour  ;  we  did  not  need  her  this  morning,  mother 
and  I." 

"  Well,  well,"  her  father  said,  "  I  do  believe  I'm 
the  only  one  of  us  who  doesn't  think  that  Madge 
has  got  to  be  kept  in  cotton-wool.  I  shall  have 


IO  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

to  speak  up  very  decided  to  her.  It  will  never  do 
to  let  her  get  into  such  easy  ways." 

"  Where  was  she  last  evening  ?  "  David  asked. 
"  Seems  to  me  they  are  very  gay  up  at  Mrs.  Lee's 
lately." 

"  Miss  Lee  has  had  the  house  full  of  friends, 
and  loves  to  have  Madge  come  up  to  help." 

"  Help  bake  the  cake,  or  what  ? "  her  father 
said,  rather  discontentedly.  "  I  shouldn't  think  a 
little  girl  off  a  farm  could  do  much  about  enter- 
taining city  folks." 

"  City  folks  must  be  hard  to  suit,  if  they  don't 
find  Madge  more  entertaining  than  most,"  David 
said  aside  to  Rachel. 

Mrs.  Anderson  began  to  look  a  little  disturbed, 
as  if  uncertain  which  side  to  take  first,  when  the 
sound  of  a  quick  step  was  heard  on  the  stair,  a 
girl's  voice  singing  as  she  came,  and  Madge  ap- 
peared. Looking  quite  sure  of  bringing  her  wel- 
come with  her,  and  giving  a  kiss  to  father  and 
mother  as  she  passed,  she  slipped  into  her  seat 
by  David  with  a  saucy  little  gesture,  in  answer  to 
his  sober  "  good-morning." 

"  Rachel,  what  did  you  let  me  sleep  so  for  ?  I 
dare  say  you  and  mother  have  been  getting  into 
all  sorts  of  difficulties  without  me.  Nancy,  these 
cakes  aren't  half  as  nice  as  if  I  had  made  them." 

Nancy  chuckled.  "  Good  as  old  folks  can 
make,  dear,  when  there  ain't  nobody  to  help  'em." 


A    SUMMERS    DAY.  II 

"  Little  girls  who  sit  up  late  at  night  have  to 
leave  their  work  for  somebody  else  to  do  in  the 
morning,"  her  father  said. 

"  Now  it's  every  bit  Rachel's  fault,  for  I  had 
my  eyes  all  ready  to  open  at  a  minute's  warning. 
And  oh,  daddy  dear,  we  had  such  a  lovely  time 
yesterday  !  a  whole  party  of  us  in  the  buckboard  ! 
We  went  over  the  hill-road  and  back  by  the  glen, 
and  did  not  get  home  to  tea  at  Mrs.  Lee's  till 
nine  o'clock,  —  it  was  such  fun  !  " 

"  I  thought  it  a  great  deal  better  fun  to  have 
my  tea  at  six,"  her  father  said,  as  he  pushed  his 
chair  back.  "  I'm  glad  you  had  a  good  time, 
Maggie  dear ;  but  don't  stay  away  often  —  we 
want  you  at  home." 

A  smile  passed  between  Rachel  and  her  moth- 
er, who  knew  very  well  that  if  a  feal  reproof  was 
to  be  given  to  Madge,  it  would  not  come  from  the 
father. 

Breakfast  over,  the  two  girls  went  on  with  their 
usual  morning's  work  of  washing  cups  and  sau- 
cers, dusting  and  arranging  for  the  day,  Madge 
talking  all  the  while  of  yesterday  and  her  delight- 
ful drive. 

"  And  they  were  all  so  amusing,"  she  said.  "  I 
wonder,  Rachel,  if  people  always  are  agreeable 
when  they  live  in  a  city." 

"  They  can't  be  so  very  different  from  people 
who  live  in  the  country.  There  are  dull  people 
and  amusing  ones  everywhere,  I  suppose." 


12  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

"  Precious  few  amusing  ones  in  Hartfield.  I 
think  there  must  be  some  way  of  being  taught 
how  to  talk,  and  be  agreeable  about  nothing  at 
all." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Madge  ? "  Rachel  said, 
over  her  shoulder  from  the  closet  she  was  ar- 
ranging. "  If  there's  nothing  to  talk  about,  I 
should  think  it  showed  better  sense  to  keep 
quiet." 

"That's  just  what  I  don't  like.  There  is  our 
David,  he  is  as  sensible  as  he  can  be.  If  he  has 
anything  to  tell  he  is  very  pleasant,  but  then  he 
can  just  as  well  sit  for  an  hour  without  speaking. 
I  can't  bear  to  have  people  silent,  it  embarrasses 
me  so." 

"  Then,  I'm  sure  I  should  think  I  must  be  the 
most  embarrassing  companion  you  could  have." 

"  Nonsense,  Rachel.  I  never  know  whether  it 
is  you  or  I  who  are  talking.  I  do  it  for  both  of 
us.  I  dare  say  it  would  not  sound  droll  if  it  was 
repeated  ;  but  Dr.  Rowland  and  Mr.  Forrester 
made  everything  so  amusing — just  about  the 
things  along  the  road,  and  each  other,  and  an  old 
woman  who  brought  us  out  some  milk  to  drink." 

"  I  hope  she  found  it  amusing  to  be  laughed 
at." 

"  Of  course  she  did  not  know  they  were  laugh- 
ing at  her,  and  she  went  on  being  more  absurd 
than  ever.  You  know  what  I  mean,  Rachel. 


A    SUMMERS    DAY.  13 

I've  heard  you  say  yourself  how  pleasantly  the 
Lees  talk  about  everything  ;  it  makes  every  one 
about  here  seem  dull,  I  know  that." 

Rachel  was  folding  the  table-cloth,  and  went 
on  laying  her  plaits  straight,  apparently  intent  on 
her  work,  till,  as  she  put  it  in  its  place,  she  said  : 

"  Madge  dear,  don't  let  the  pleasant  times  we 
have  had  with  the  Lees  make  you  discontented, 
or  I  shall  wish  we  had  never  known  them.'' 

"  Don't  suggest  anything  so  horrid  !  What 
should  we  do  without  them  ?  Why,  only  ye^ter- 
day  father  said  he  had  no  idea  how  far  on  we 
were  in  August,  till  he  heard  the  cockerels  crow  ; 
and  my  first  thought  was  how  soon  the  Lees' 
house  would  be  shut  up  for  the  winter.  You 
can  call  it  discontented,  but  I  don't  see  how  any 
one  can  help  wanting  to  know  pleasant  people, 
instead  of  dull  ones." 

Rachel  looked  worried.  It  was  always  difficult 
to  tell  where  Madge  drew  the  line  at  what  she 
called  "  preaching." 

"  I  should  say  that  it  was  discontented  to  spoil 
the  next  three  months  with  dread  of  the  winter. 
After  all,  Madge,  you  enjoy  it  when  it  comes." 

"  Of  course  I  do  —  in  self-defence.  I'm  not 
such  a  goose  as  to  like  being  miserable.  What  I 
want,  —  now  this  you  will  think  dreadful,  —  but 
what  I  wish  is,  that  we  were  like  the  Lees  ;  and 
when  the  pleasant  time  here  is  over,  could  go  off 


14  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

to  New  York,  and  have  just  as  pleasant  a 
there." 

"  I  don't  know  about  you,  dear,  but  I  am  afraid 
that  the  rest  of  us  would  not  make  much  of  a 
show  in  a  city,"  Rachel  said. 

"That  is  just  what  makes  me  angry  with  my- 
self, —  to  feel  awkward  where  Helen  is  perfectly 
at  ease.  When  I  am  alone  with  the  family,  even 
with  Mr.  Lee  or  Fred,  I  feel  quite  at  home  ;  but 
with  other  people  —  Helen's  friend,  Miss  Granger, 
for  mstance — I  almost  fancy  they  are  talking 
about  things  that  I  don't  understand,  on  pur- 
pose ;  and  then  I  feel  such  a  stupid  country  girl." 
Madge  dropped  disconsolately  into  a  chair,  her 
duster  in  her  lap.  "  I  suppose  I  am  discontented, 
but  I  hate  dusting,  and  I  hate  sweeping,  and  I 
hate  making  over  old  dresses." 

"  Well,  you  don't  at  all  hate  making  new  ones," 
Rachel  said,  cheerfully  ;  "  and  this  will  be  a  nice 
morning  to  set  about  your  blue  muslin.  There's 
nothing  especial  to  do  to-day,  and  we  can  get  it 
half  done  between  us." 

The  mood  was  over  for  that  hour,  and  Madge 
ran  off,  her  head  full  of  plans  for  reproducing 
the  costumes  of  her  companions  of  yesterday. 
She  would  not  have  dared  to  own  even  to  Rachel 
how  many  of  her  longings  were  given  to  lovely 
new  dresses,  such  as  she  saw  were  taken  as  a 
matter  of  course  in  this  other  world,  into  which 
she  looked  so  wistfully. 


A    SUMMERS    DAY.  1 5 

Though  Rachel  had  skilfully  turned  the  cur- 
rent of  Madge's  thoughts,  the  conversation  just 
passed  would  have  made  it  a  hard  matter  to  rea- 
son away  her  father's  anxieties,  had  he  heard  it. 
No  very  new  anxiety.  Lo.ng  ago,  when  the  plan 
had  first  been  suggested  that  his  girls  should 
share  some  lessons  with  Helen  Lee  from  her 
governess,  he  had  had  his  doubts.  No  one  val- 
ued good  teaching  more  than  he ;  but  might  not 
they  learn  something  else  —  learn  to  depend  on 
things  which  belonged  very  properly  to  Miss 
Helen  Lee's  life,  but  not  at  all  to  that  of  a  far- 
mer's daughter?  Still  it  was  hard  to  disappoint 
his  wife,  and  the  girls  too,  and  so  —  his  sturdy 
independence  gave  way,  but  the  doubts  would 
sometimes  come  back.  Not  for  Rachel,  her 
mother  over  again ;  but  for  his  little  Madge 
he  was  not  quite  so  sure. 

This  morning  the  doubts  were  uppermost,  and 
when  he  came  in  with  a  basket  of  eggs,  he  lin- 
gered, rather  wishing  for  a  word  from  his  wife,  to 
turn  the  balance.  The  harm  was  done,  he 
was  afraid  ;  that  is  to  say,  if  there  were  any 
harm.  Hester  always  seemed  to  think  that 
nothing  but  good  could  come  from  Mrs.  Lee  and 
Miss  Helen. 

"  Any  errands  at  the  store  ? "  he  said,  as  his 
wife  counted  over  the  eggs.  "  I'm  going  along 
down  that  way,  and  I  can  keep  on  as  far  as  the 
Centre,  if  you  want." 


16  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

"  No,  I  don't  believe  there's  anything.  Six 
dozen  —  two,  four,  six  —  why,  how  the  hens  are 
laying  ! " 

"  You'll  have  plenty  more  to-morrow,  and 
straight  along  now.  That  notion  I  got  out  of 
the  '  Ploughman '  is  working  first-rate,  and  you'll 
have  as  many  eggs  as  there's  folks  to  come  after 
them,  and  all  you  want  for  yourself  beside." 

"  Well  now,  father,  do  you  know  if  I'm  going 
to  have  so  much  egg-money,  I've  a  great  mind  to 
let  Madge  have  something  she's  been  wishing 
for  —  if  you  think  right,  that  is." 

Here  was  a  chance  for  letting  out  his  worries, 
and  the  farmer  tilted  his  hat  (still  left  where  it 
took  up  the  least  room,  on  the  top  of  his  head) 
over  his  perplexed  brows,  and  waited  to  say  what 
he  wished,  without  being  too  hard  on  his  little 
girl. 

"  It's  a  little  bookcase  that  Madge  saw  at  Mrs. 
Lee's  ;  she  thought  it  would  look  just  the  thing 
between  the  windows  in  the  sitting-room.  It 
doesn't  seem  just  like  spending  money,  either, 
for  it  was  made  by  Widow  Green's  lame  boy,  and 
it's  ever  so  much  of  a  help  to  her.  Mrs.  Lee  's 
been  just  as  kind  —  well,  just  as  kind  as  she  al- 
ways is,  and  has  given  him  drawings  to  copy ; 
and  now  he's  been  making  quite  a  lot  of  things, 
little  tables,  and  so  on,  that  the  boarders  round 
have  bought.  If  we  could  do  the  widow  a  turn, 


*A  SUMMER'S  DAY.  17 

and  please  the  girls  too,  I  thought  you  wouldn't 
begrudge  the  money." 

"  It  isn't  the  money,"  —  and  the  hat  was  tipped 
on  to  the  back  of  his  head  now,  as  if  some  fresh 
supply  of  wisdom  might  blow  in  through  the 
thick  gray  hair,  —  "  money 's  easier  to  get  than 
good  sense.  I  should  be  very  ready  to  pay  Bijah 
Green  anything  he  asked  for  a  good  kitchen  table 
for  Madge  to  stand  at  and  make  bread  ;  but  why 
does  she  want  to  have  bookcases,  and  things  like 
Mrs.  Lee's  folks  that  belong  in  the  city  ? " 

"  Why,  father,  you  like  books  as  well  as  any- 
body;  and  seems  to  me  it's  very 'nice  to  have 
something  pretty  to  set  them  in.  And,  then,  I 
like  to  have  a  girl  think  about  making  the  house 
look  pretty." 

"  What  does  she  want  more  than  we've  got  ? 
The  child  can  put  the  ugly,  useful  things  in  the 
closet ;  I'd  just  as  lief  go  and  get  out  the  diction- 
ary and  the  map  when  I'm  put  to  it  to  know  any- 
thing ;  and  then  there's  the  book-shelves  for  all 
her  genteel  reading.  Why,  Hester,  we  thought, 
when  we  bought  those  book-shelves,  they  were 
most  too  handsome  for  us,  with  all  their  carved 
curlicues  and  headings  —  well,  well." 

He  had  quite  a  grieved  look  on  his  face,  and 
his  wife  responded  with  quick  sympathy  to  the 
recollection  which  they  had  in  common. 

"  Yes,  Joe  ;  but,  then,  part  of  the  reason  they 
2 


1 8  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

looked  so  to  us  is  because  we  had  them  in  the 
beginning,  when  there  was  only  you  and  me ; 
they  mean  a  great  deal  more  than  book-shelves 
to  us.  I'm  sure  I  hope  the  girls  will  see  the  time 
when  all  their  pretty  things  will  mean  as  much 
to  them  ;  but  I  don't  wonder  now  that  they  have 
rather  a  longing  for  something  a  little  different 
from  what  they've  seen  all  their  days." 

Mr.  Anderson  had  a  way  of  accompanying  any 
difficult  problem  with  a  most  distracting  tattoo  on 
table,  window,  or  fence ;  anything  which  gave  a 
foothold,  as  it  were,  for  his  fingers.  Madge  would 
say,  "  Father,  if  I  can't  have  it,  tell  me  quick,  and 
then  I'll  begin  to  tease,  but  you  must  not  drum." 
And  he  would  say,  "  Much  better  to  let  me  drum 
it  out,  dear  ;  it  does  not  take  half  so  long  as  your 
teasing."  But  his  wife  and  Rachel  always  waited 
patiently  for  the  end  of  the  tattoo,  as  only 
"  father's  way."  The  drumming  this  time  did  not 
appear  to  bring  matters  to  any  satisfactory  con- 
clusion in  the  farmer's  mind. 

"  It's  not  the  girls,  I  mean,  Hester ;  there's 
never  anything  to  worry  about  in  Rachel  ;  and 
it's  not  the  bookcase  that  signifies  either,  for  that 
matter.  I'll  stop  at  Widow  Green's  to-day,  and 
see  what  Bijah's  at  work  on.  It's  a  deal  more 
than  that,  that  I'm  thinking  about.  The  Lees 
are  as  good  folks  as  I  wish  to  know,  but  they're 
not  our  sort.  Madge  wasn't  born  to  live  among 


A    SUMMERS    DAY.  19 

'em,  and  I'm  afraid,  one  of  these  days,  Miss  Helen 
will  branch  off,  and  leave  Madge  out  in  the  cold. 
She'll  be  unhappy,  and  we  shall  be  sorry  that  we 
did  not  keep  her  where  she  belonged." 

His  wife  looked  sober,  but  not  troubled.  She 
knew  very  well  that  he  was  thinking  of  the  time 
when  he  had  doubted  the  wisdom  of  letting  a 
childish  acquaintance  lead  on  to  an  intimacy 
which  must,  in  some  degree,  affect  his  daughters' 
lives,  though  he  would  not  harp  upon  it. 

"  I  don't  believe  we've  made  any  mistake,"  she 
said.  "  There  isn't  a  house  in  Hartfield  where 
she  could  learn  any  more  good  than  from  Mrs. 
Lee  and  Miss  Helen  ;  and  they  are  not  the  kind 
to  make  a  friend  of  her  now,  and  drop  her  by  and 
by.  Madge  is  a  gay  little  body,  and  would  need 
looking  after  anywhere  ;  but  then  you  must  re- 
member she's  got  Rachel." 

"And  mother  too,"  he  said  ;  "  I  don't  see  how 
she  could  go  amiss." 

They  were  gray-haired  people  ;  but  as  he  went 
out  he  kissed  her  tenderly  —  as  tenderly  as  in  the 
days  when  they  were  beginning  life  together,  as  she 
said,  when  he,  a  strong,  young  Scotchman,  took  her 
to  share  with  him  plans  for  life  in  the  New  World, 
towards  which  he  had  been  striving  ever  since  he 
was  a  boy  on  his  father's  bleak  Highland  farm. 

When  he  had  left  her,  her  mind  wandered  back 


2O  FROM    MADGE   TO    MARGARET. 

to  days  in  which  he  had  no  share  —  before  he 
had  removed  her  from  a  life  so  dull  that  it  did 
not  even  suggest  anything  better.  It  was  partly 
this  which  had  made  her  long,  even  against  her 
husband's  judgment,  to  accept  for  her  children  an 
opening  to  a  life  which  would  have  satisfied  her 
own  unrecognized  yearnings.  Had  her  youth 
been  one  of  uneventful  happiness,  she  might  have 
made  the  mistake  of  thinking  that  they,  too, 
should  be  satisfied  with  what  was  enough  for  her  ; 
but  even  at  this  long  distance  from  it  she  could 
not  help  pitying  the  forlorn  girlhood  she  remem- 
bered. Like  Bertha  in  the  Lane,  she  — 

"  Pitied  her  own  heart,  as  if  she  held  it  in  her  hand." 

In  the  grim  household  where  her  maiden  aunts 
regarded  her  as  the  most  unlucky  mistake 
of  their  unlucky  brother's  life,  an  aspiration  to- 
wards anything  better  than  their  dull  ways  would 
have  been  regarded  by  them  as  an  inheritance  of 
folly,  or  worse.  Their  brother  James  had  aspired 
to  poetry,  art,  heaven  knows  what  nonsense  ;  the 
natural  consequence  in  their  minds  had  been  a 
consumptive  wife  and  an  orphan  child. 

Hester's  girlish  prettiness,  her  sweet,  graceful 
ways,  had  been  to  them  only  signs  of  the  evil  in 
her  nature.  If  they  had  ever  felt  anything  but 
wrath  at  their  sister-in-law's  selfishness  in  slip- 
ping out  of  the  world  and  leaving  them  with 


A    SUMMERS    DAY.  21 

this  charge  on  their  hands,  it  was  when  they 
thought  that,  but  for  their  unremitting  severity, 
Hester  would  have  taken  as  naturally  to  evil  ways 
as  they  to  the  ugly  side  of  life.  Poor  child,  she 
had  almost  begun  to  think  so  herself,  when  her 
lover  came  to  teach  her,  in  very  different  language, 
what  it  all  meant,  and  carried  her  off  to  the  happy 
married  life,  which  made  those  earlier  years  seem 
as  if  lived  by  some  other  woman. 

It  was  not  often  that  she  went  back  to  the  old 
times.  Her  aunts  had  died  years  ago,  devotedly 
nursed  by  her,  and  taking  all  her  devotion  as  the 
result  of  their  careful  training.  They  would  say  : 

"  Sister  and  I  went  through  everything  with 
Hetty,  for  a  setter  child  in  all  her  ways  you  never 
see  ;  but  first  we  scolded,  and  then  we  prayed, 
and  then  we  whipped,  —  and  there  she  be." 

Mrs.  Anderson  pondered  and  puzzled,  as  she 
moved  about  her  pretty  dairy,  made  as  dainty  for 
her  by  her  husband's  care  as  ever  a  city  lady's  bou- 
doir. It  would  be  terrible  if  she  should  have  gone 
against  her  dear  good  man's  wishes,  and  then 
harm  should  come.  But  no,  there  surely  could 
be  nothing  but  good  in  having  added  so  much 
to  Rachel's  resources  ;  and  for  Madge,  dear  child, 
—  well,  she  could  not  regret  all  the  pleasure  the 
intimacy  with  the  Lees  gave  her,  and  she  herself 
must  be  the  more  watchful  that  nothing  came  out 
of  it  to  disturb  "  father's  honest  Scotch  pride." 


22  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

"  Want  some  pretty,  genteel  work,  Mrs.  Ander- 
son ? "  Nancy  said,  coming  in  with  a  pan  of  peas 
to  shell. 

"  Quite  ready,"  Mrs.  Anderson  said.  "  I  was 
just  coming  to  see  how  you  were  getting  on  with 
the  ironing,  and  if  you  did  not  want  a  little  help." 

"  Not  a  bit  ;  our  girls  don't  have  no  dimi-simi- 
quivers  on  their  govvnds,  not  so  many  as  they 
might.  I  was  looking  at  -  Miss  Lee's  gownd  to 
meeting  last  Sabbath  ;  it  was  in  the  aisle  coming 
out,  so  I  guess  'twan't  no  harm  to  speak  of ;  and 
I  said  to  myself,  now  why  shouldn't  our  Madge 
be  kind  of  frilled  and  puckered  up,  just  like  that. 
I  didn't  like  to  seem  to  be  looking,  but  I  got  a 
sort  of  idee  how  it  went  ;"  and  Nancy  endeav- 
ored to  drape  her  large  calico  apron,  to  give  the 
air  of  the  last  French  fashion. 

"  Nancy,  don't  be  putting  notions  into  Madge's 
head,  there's  a  good  soul !  It's  all  very  well  for 
Miss  Helen,  with  no  end  of  money^  to  buy  with 
and  hands  to  work  for  her  ;  but  I  think  Madge 
looks  pretty  enough  in  the  plain  dresses  that 
don't  take  half  a  day  to  iron." 

"  I  guess  she  does  look  pretty,  indeed  ;  why, 
sometimes  I  think  the  child  looks  handsome 
enough  to  be  one  of  them  dangerous  Scriptur 
women." 

"  I'm  quite  satisfied  with  her  as  she  is,"  the 
mother  said.  "  Miss  Helen 's  a  very  kind  friend  ; 


A    SUMMERS    DAY.  23 

but  Madge  must  learn  she  can't  have  her  own  nice 
things  and  everybody  else's  too.  We  mustn't 
spoil  her,  Nancy." 

"  Well,  I  shouldn't  think  a  ruffle  or  two  wan't 
no  great  pitfall  for  anybody ;  and  I'd  make  a 
friendly  call  up  to  Miss  Lee's  laundry,  and  learn 
a  few  wrinkles  about  adoin'  on'  em  up.  But  there, 
my  starch'll  jell  if  I  stop  a-talking  here." 

"  Nancy,  too,"  Mrs.  Anderson  thought,  as  she 
sat  with  her  pan  of  peas  in  her  lap,  while  busy 
fingers  and  busy  thoughts  went  on  together.  "  I 
wonder  if  there's  not  just  as  much  fear  of  the 
spoiling  being  done  at  home.  It's  not  the  whiff 
of  air  once  in  a  while,  but  the  atmosphere,  day  in 
and  day  out,  that  is  the  important  thing." 

The  busy  day  had  come  to  its  end  when  my 
story  begins.  Nancy  in  the  kitchen  was  contem- 
plating the  great  clothes-horse  covered  with 
glossy,  shining  folds,  and  thinking  that  "  if  you 
did  have  to  yank  your  eyes  open  at  four  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  it  was  a  comfort  to  have  some- 
thing worth  to  show  for't."  -The  mother  sat  in 
the  porch  with  her  work-basket,  glancing  up  to 
watch  her  girls  as  she  stopped  to  turn  a  hem  or 
thread  a  needle,  always  with  the  pleasant  sense 
that  they  were  there. 

Rachel  was  too  engrossed  with  her  reading 
even  to  wonder  that  she  had  been  so  long  unin- 


24  FROM    MADGE   TO    MARGARET. 

terrupted  by  the  pleasant  chatter  of  her  srster, 
who  liked  to  assert  her  rights  as  a  companion, 
and  was  always  a  little  jealous  of  the  exclusive 
way  in  which  a  book  took  possession  of  Rachel. 
Madge's  voice  aroused  her,  and,  looking  up,  she 
saw  her  standing  by  the  roadside.  The  farm- 
house green  sloped  gently  upwards  to  the  wide 
stone  wall,  skirting  the  road,  and  formed  a  grassy 
terrace  walk  for  some  distance ;  and  there,  half 
hidden  among  sweeping  chestnut  boughs,  stood 
Madge,  talking  to  a  gentleman  on  horseback  in 
the  road  below. 

As  Rachel  joined  them  her  sister  held  out  a 
note,  saying,  "  A  message  from  Helen,  which  Dr. 
Rowland  has  brought ;"  to  which  the  rider  added  : 
"  Yes,  the  lion  will  be  fed  on  strawberries  and 
cream  at  eight,  and  if  properly  stirred  up,  it  is 
hoped  that  he  will  begin  to  roar  at  half-past,  and 
Helen  desires  that  you  will  come  and  share  her 
raptures." 

"  Don't  look  so  puzzled,  Rachel ;  it  is  only  that 
Helen's  musical  friend  has  arrived,  and  we  are 
asked  there  to  hear  some  music  this  evening. 
You  don't  think  there  can  be  any  objection  —  I 
want  so  much  to  go." 

"  Of  course  you  must  come,"  Dr.  Howland  said, 
"they  all  want  you.  I  have  been  listening  to 
their  ecstasies  till  I  should  like  an  unbiased 
judgment  as  to  whether  there  is  most  noise  or 
music." 


A  SUMMER'S  DAY.  .25 

"  There's  something  amiss  with  you  to-day,  and 
you  are  not  at  all  nice,"  Madge  said.  "  We  shall 
come  all  prepared  for  unmixed  admiration,  as  we 
have  never  heard  anything  like  it,  and  it  must  be 
fine  if  Helen  enjoys  it." 

"  I'm  sure  I  am  much  obliged  for  your  mild 
way  of  putting  it.  I  know  I  am  far  from  nice 
this  afternoon,  but  everything  and  everybody  up 
at  the  house  seem  out  of  their  grooves  to-day. 
Helen  and  Miss  Granger  have  been  unapproach- 
able ;  and  when  I  want  my  aunt  especially  for  half 
an  hour,  she  is  taken  up  with  planning  for  a 
nuisance  of  a  picnic  to-morrow  —  expects  me  to 
drive  the  grand  piano ;  and  Fred  will  have  charge 
ofrHerr  Stenbock  and  his  music-stool.  The  idea 
of  a  picnic  in  August !  " 

"  Now,  Dr.  Howland,  I  really  am  alarmed  about 
you  ;  what  has  happened  ?  Why,  we  went  on  a 
picnic  the  hottest  day  of  last  June,  and  if  any  one 
enjoyed  it,  you  certainly  did,  with  thunder-storm 
and  mosquitoes  thrown  in.  I  must  say,  if  Helen 
asks  me,  I  shall  be  only  too  happy  for  the  chance  ; 
and  how  you  will  despise  me  for  the  delightful 
time  I  shall  have." 

"  Not  a  bit ;  and  I  think  I  begin  to  see  a  ray  of 
light.  You  will  be  so  happy  that  perhaps  it  will 
be  infectious,  and  there," —  giving  himself  a  shake, 
—  "  what  a  waste  of  time  it  is  to  be  cross  in  this 
weather !  There's  not  so  very  much  more  of  it, 


.  26  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

and  if  one  could  only  bottle  up  one's  blues  till 
November,  they  would  pass  for  influenza." 

Rachel  looked  up  with  her  kind,  pleasant  smile. 
"I  know  what  you  need,  Dr.  Rowland  —  to  lean 
over  the  gate  and  see  the  cows  milked.  You 
said  once  that  if  the  cows  would  stand  long 
enough,  you  would  agree  to  soothe  your  most 
nervous  patient.  There  go  Nancy  and  the  pails! 
Come,  and  then  we  will  go  to  mother  in  the  dairy, 
and  finish  the  cure  with  an  internal  application." 

"I  wish  I  could,  Miss  Rachel  ;  it  sounds  very 
tempting.  I  feel  a  trifle  more  amiable  already  ; 
but  I  have  promised  Helen  to  deliver  some  mes- 
sages about  the  picnic  to-morrow.  You  will 
come  this  evening,  and  I  shall  walk  down  to  maet 
you  ? " 

"  Oh  no,  don't  do  that ;  it  is  a  bright  evening, 
and  if  we  needed  any  one,  my  cousin  David  is 
very  likely  to  be  here." 

"  David  !  "  Madge  said,  with  an  expressive  pro- 
longation of  the  word  as  they  turned  away. 

"Yes,  and  the  best  of  Davids,"  Rachel  said; 
"and  if  we  needed  an  escort,  the  best  for  us. 
You  know,  Madge  dear,  that  this  is  just  the  kind 
of  thing  which  annoys  father.  It  makes  him 
fancy  that  if  we  are  so  much  with  the  Lees,  we 
may  catch  up  foolish  ideas  which  will  spoil  us.  I 
don't  want  to  preach,  but  I  wish  you  would  see 
how  wise  father  is." 


A  SUMMER'S  DAY.  27 

"  Oh,  you  may  preach  forever,  Rachel,  if  you 
don't  take  David  for  a  text.  I  do  get  so  tired 
sometimes  of  hearing  how  good  he  is.  But  I 
should  really  like  to-  know  if  there  was  any 
special  reason  for  Dr.  Rowland's  seeming  so  un- 
like himself.  I  don't  think  I  ever  saw  him  look- 
ing out  of  spirits  before  ;  and  of  course  it  was  not 
that  German's  music." 

There  was  a  most  especial  reason  why  Jack 
Rowland  was  riding  along  the  pretty  country 
road,  looking  moodily  between  his  horse's  ears. 
To-day  had  brought  him  what  seemed  the  dis- 
appointment of  his  life,  and  though  he  knew  that 
he  should  reconcile  himself  to  it,  as  he  had  done 
to  many  an  annoyance  from  the  same  source 
before,  there  was  a  fight  going  on  within  him  at 
that  moment. 

When  Mary  Gray,  the  belle  and  beauty  of  her 
season,  married  Jack  Rowland's  father,  a  hand- 
some man,  rich  and  of  good  family,  it  seemed  a 
most  excellent  match.  So  thought  the  world,  and 
still  more  Mary  Gray  herself,  who  was  very  much 
in  love  with  the  owner  of  all  these  qualifications 
for  matrimony.  At  the  end  of  ten  years  of  mar- 
ried life,  Mrs.  Rowland  looked  upon  a  young 
bride  with  more  compassion  for  the  trials  to 
come,  than  sympathy  with  her  present  happiness. 
A  stronger  woman  might  have  fought  out  the 
petty  battles,  conquered,  and  perhaps  grown  hard 


28  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

in  the  victory  ;  but  Mrs.  Rowland  simply  faded 
away  out  of  life,  and  when  in  a  few  years  more 
the  poor  worried  lady  drew  her  last  breath,  the 
doctor  talked  of  typhoid  fever  acting  on  an  ex- 
hausted system,  but  thought  to  himself  that  his 
skill  might  have  brought  her  through,  had  not 
death  seemed  so  much  easier  to  her  than  life. 
For  the  one  great  happiness  had  gone  from  her 
when  curly-headed  Jack  was  sent  off  to  Germany 
to  school.  Mr.  Rowland's  last  dictum  had  been 
to  announce  that  the  boy  would  be  much  better 
for  the  next  few  years,  learning  independence  at 
a  distance  from  home  ;  and  the  most  disturbing 
thought  in  his  wife's  last  illness  was  to  wonder 
who  would  tell  her  darling  gently  enough  that 
mamma  was  no  longer  sitting  at  home,  waiting  for 
the  letters  he  had  promised  so  faithfully  to  write. 
For  six  months  Mr.  Rowland  was  the  most 
elaborate  of  widowers.  Then,  tired  of  this  new 
character,  he  did  what  might  have  saved  the  life 
of  his  wife  —  went  abroad  to  be  within  reach  of 
his  boy  ;  and  once  there,  finding  himself  so  much 
more  easily  amused  than  at  home,  decided  to 
remain.  Jack  and  his  father  got  on  very  well 
together  in  the  intervals  of  school  and  college 
life.  Fortunately  for  the  son's  happiness  his  life 
was  full  of  interest  in  his.pursuits  ;  for  very  early 
he  had  decided  that  the  one  occupation  for  which 
he  would  like  to  fit  himself  was  surgery.  Stingi- 


A  SUMMER'S  DAY.  29 

ness  was  no  part  of  Mr.  Rowland's  character  ;  it 
was  rather  his  tendency  to  be  lavish  with  his 
money,  and  as,  after  his  selfish  fashion,  he  was  a 
proud  and  loving  father,  Jack  felt  sure  that  there 
would  never  be  any  lack  of  money  to  carry  out 
his  plans.  When  Jack  had  gone  through  his 
whole  course  of  study,  and  had  graduated  in  Paris 
with  full  honors,  he  astonished  his  father  by  sud- 
denly developing  his  plans,  knowing  very  well 
that  with  Mr.  Rowland  a  long  contemplation 
even  of  paradise  would  have  ended  in  doubts  as 
to  whether  the  other  sphere  did  not  present  the 
greater  advantages  of  the  two. 

But  when  Jack  said,  without  any  preparation, 
"  Why  would  it  not  be  a  good  plan  for  him  to  re- 
turn to  America,  and  for  two  or  three  years  at 
least  occupy  himself  with  trying  to  carry  out  at 
home  some  of  the  ideas  which  he  had  acquired  in 
his  foreign  education  ? "  his  father  answered,  "  By 
all  means,  my  dear  boy ; "  and  applied  himself 
with  enthusiasm  to  aiding  his  son,  with  letters  to 
old  friends,  advice,  and  liberal  money  arrange- 
ments. 

Jack  had  arrived  in  America  the  previous  au- 
tumn, and  had  spent  the  happiest  winter  of  his 
life,  regarding  it  only  as  a  preparation  for  future 
years  of  usefulness.  He  had  this  morning  re- 
ceived the  letter  which  put  an  end  to  every 
present  plan.  His  father  wrote  that  he  was  ill, 


3O  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

lonely,  wretched  ;  and  that  it  was  unreasonable  to 
ask  him  longer  to  supply  the  funds  for  plans 
which  he  saw  would  deprive  him  of  his  son's  com- 
panionship for  life,  as  his  own  health  forbade  his 
return  to  America.  Jack's  first  feeling,  on  read- 
ing his  letter,  was  unmixed  rebellion.  What 
right  had  any  man,  even  if  he  did  stand  in  the 
relation  of  a  parent,  so  utterly  to  control  the  life 
of  another  ?  And  if  he  yielded  now,  all  was  over 
with  him.  Of  course  he  need  not  be  useless,  but 
he  should  be  always  at  his  father's  beck  and  call ; 
and  only  in  America  could  he  really  find  a  career. 
The  storm  had  raged  within  him  all  day,  but  as 
the  sun  went  down  there  came  a  lull,  and  walk- 
ing his  horse  along  the  road,  he  drew  the  letter 
from  his  pocket  and  conned  it  carefully  over. 
The  disappointment  was  as  great,  but  there  was 
no  question  as  to  the  duty  of  his  returning  to 
his  father,  as  soon  as  he  could  make  the  neces- 
sary arrangements  to  resign  what  he  had  taken 
upon  himself  for  the  winter.  As  soon  as  Jack's 
hopeful  nature  began  to  reassert  itself,  he  was 
ready  to  be  convinced  that  all  must  go  as  he 
wished  ;  and  by  the  time  he  had  returned  from 
his  ride,  he  was  almost  reconciled  to  the  post- 
ponement of  his  plans,  and  was  thinking  very 
tenderly  of  his  father,  ill  and  alone,  and  longing 
for  his  boy.  Jack  gave  a  whistle,  as  he  remem- 
bered suddenly  how  very  cross  his  father  always 
was  in  a  fit  of  the  gout. 


A    SUMMER    EVENING.  31 


CHAPTER   II. 

A    SUMMER   EVENING. 

WHEN  the  evening  came,  there  was  nothing 
to  prevent  the  girls  from  going  to  Mrs.  Lee's, 
and,  much  to  Madge's  internal  satisfaction,  no 
Cousin  David  had  appeared  as  escort  ;  but  as 
they  turned  the  corner  of  the  shrubbery,  upon 
the  gravel  walk  was  Dr.  Rowland,  pacing  up  and 
down,  enjoying  his  cigar. 

"  I  did  not  come,  because  you  told  me  not  ;  but 
I  was  just  going  to  extend  my  walk  to  see  what 
had  become  of  you.  Here  are  some  seats  on  the 
piazza,  where  you  can  enjoy  the  moonlight  and 
the  music  at  the  same  time." 

So  faultless  an  arrangement  having  been  made, 
it  seemed  hard  that  it  should  be  interrupted ;  but 
Helen  Lee,  stepping  out  from  the  drawing-room, 
begged  them  to  come  and  listen  to  the  music  in- 
side. The  piazza  had  much  greater  attraction 
for  Madge,  and  she  hesitated  ;  then  followed  Miss 
Lee  through  the  open  window  ;  and  Rachel, 
rather  to  her  own  astonishment,  found  herself 
answering  sympathetically  poor  Jack's  look  of 


32  FROM    MADGE   TO   MARGARET. 

disappointment,  as  they  sat  down  together  out- 
side, where  they  could  not  only  hear,  but,  through 
the  wide  windows  opening  to  the  floor,  see  all 
that  passed  within.  The  pianist  began  an  Hun- 
garian polonaise,  full  of  wild  fancy,  and  creating 
before  the  minds  of  his  hearers  the  brilliant 
figures  which  should  move  to  such  strains.  In 
Madge's  present  mood  the  music  roused  a  sense 
of  restless  excitement.  She  felt  the  beauty  of 
life  and  motion  described,  and  longed,  in  a  vague 
way,  to  have  a  part  in  it. 

"  The  Herr  is  pandering  to  the  populace  to- 
night," Dr.  Rowland  said.  "  It  was  Bach  and 
Beethoven  this  morning,  but  to-night  Helen  has 
gathered  in  all  the  fashion  which  Hartfield  af- 
fords, and  he  is  playing  down  to  their  tastes. 
Your  sister  is  enjoying  it.  How  lovely  she 
looks  !  " 

It  was  a  very  pretty  picture,  Rachel  owned. 
Madge,  sitting  within  the  window,  the  lace  cur- 
tains forming  a  drapery  about  her,  the  fair  head 
a  little  bent  as  her  fancies  followed  the  music,  a 
bright  flush  upon  her  cheeks,  and  the  hair  ruffled 
by  her  walk  in  the  wind,  making  soft  curls  about 
her  forehead. 

"You  can  scarcely  imagine,"  he  said  presently, 
when  the  music  paused,  "  what  a  new  experience 
it  is  to  me  to  know  women  at  home.  In  all  these 
years  abroad  I  have  had  various  friends,  foreign 


A    SUMMER    EVENING. 


33 


and  American,  but  I  have  never  seen  women  just 
as  they  were  living  in  their  own  homes,  and  to 
have  a  friend  like  Helen  Lee  has  been  a  great 
gain  in  my  life." 

"  My  knowledge  of  the  world  is  very  small. 
All  that  I  know  beyond  Hartfield  comes  out  of 
books  ;  but  I  wonder  if  Helen  is  not  out  of  the 
usual  class  of  women  ;  she  seems  to  me  to  get 
so  much  out  of  life,  and  taking  the  best  of  town 
and  country  together  must  make  a  delightful 
whole." 

"  Not  many  Helens  in  the  world,  but  enough 
to  prevent  her  from  being  an  oddity.  In  fact,  I 
am  surprised  to  find  what  a  foolish  ideal  I  have 
had  about  women  all  my  days  :  —  that  they  were 
either  beautiful  creatures,  who  passed  their  time 
in  refusing  offers,  or  else  something  so  superior  to 
men,  that  the  sooner  we  died  out  the  better,  and 
left  the  world  to  their  management.  But  I  have 
seen  very  charming  women  this  winter,  who  were 
not  above  making  themselves  attractive  —  women 
who  could  find  time  for  work  which  was  well 
worth  doing." 

"  You  can  suppose,"  said  Rachel,  "  what  your 
aunt  and  cousin  have  been  to  us.  Beside  the 
pleasure  of  their  society  for  half  the  year,  they 
give  us  a  peep  into  the  world  outside,  and  it  is 
like  a  story-book  to  us." 
3 


34  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

"  And  they  never  could  persuade  you  to  stay 
with  them,  Helen  tells  me." 

"  Oh,  no,  that  is  out  of  the  question.  I  cannot 
leave  home  ;  my  sister  could  not  go  alone,  and 
we  are  much  better  as  we  are.  I  think  we  all 
keep  up  the  interest  of  our  friendship  by  having 
such  different  stories  to  tell  each  other  when  we 
come  together  again." 

"  And  Miss  Margaret  is  contented  with  her 
quiet  life  ?  I  can  imagine  her  wishing  for  some- 
thing beyond  Hartfield  gayety.  Is  it  that  you 
would  not  trust  her  out  of  your  care,  or  is  she 
afraid  to  venture  by  herself  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Lee  has  been  very  kind  in  asking  her. 
She  would  have  enjoyed  it,  I  know  ;  but  we 
talked  it  over,  my  mother  and  I,  as  the  elders  of 
the  family,  and  we  agreed  it  was  not  worth  while 
to  risk  her  being  discontented  afterwards.  She 
is  a  happy  little  thing  now,  and  Hartfield  would 
have  seemed  very  tame  after  New  York.  Look 
at  her  now,"  Rachel  could  not  help  saying, 
pleased  and  amused  as  she  watched  Madge  talk- 
ing in  an  animated  way,  with  a  gentleman  who 
had  just  been  presented  to  her.  "  A  stranger  is 
such  a  lion  in  my  path,  and  that  child  dares  to 
make  herself  as  entertaining  as  if  they  had  been 
at  school  together  all  their  days." 

Dr.  Howland  left  his  seat  to  look  nearer  at 
what  was  passing  within  ;  and  as  Mrs.  Lee  came 


A    SUMMER   EVENING.  35 

out  from  the  drawing-room  and  sat  down  by  Ra- 
chel, he  joined  the  group,  of  which  Madge  was 
the  bright  centre. 

"  Ah,  Rachel,  my  dear,  all  well  with  you  at  the 
iarm  ?  " 

"  Quite  well.  Mother  said,  this  morning,  that 
it  was  several  days  since  you  had  looked  in  upon 
her." 

"  Visitors  have  been  coming  and  going,  and 
I  feel  as  if  I  had  done  nothing  but  consult  the 
railway  guide  this  week.  Helen  told  me  to-day 
that  she  thought  nothing  would  rest  me  but  to 
sit  at  your  dairy- window  and  watch  Mrs.  Ander- 
son skim  her  pans  of  milk." 

"  Mother  will  skim  a  pan  at  any  irregular  time 
for  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you.  You  don't  know 
what  it  is  to  a  woman  like  my  mother  to  have  a 
companion  to  whom  she  can  talk  over  all  her 
wonderings  about  this  world  and  the  next.  Her 
good  old  friends  here  never  wonder,  except 
whether  there  can  be  anything  about  making 
bread,  or  quilting  spreads,  which  they  have  not 
found  out." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  your  mother  gives  a  great 
deal  more  to  me  than  she  imagines.  You  would 
be  amused  if  you  knew  how  often  in  the  winter, 
when  Helen  and  I  are  puzzled  over  the  rights 
and  wrongs  of  matters,  we  say,  '  Now,  how  would 
it  seem  if  we  were  in  the  Hartfield  sitting-room, 
with  Mrs.  Anderson  to  judge  for  tis.'  " 


36  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Lee,  it  is  delightful  to  have  you  say 
such  kind  things.  Only  this  evening,  as  we 
were  walking  up,  Madge  was  rather  blue  over  the 
few  days  that  are  left  now  ;  and  I  told  her  that  I 
thought  it  must  be  a  very  warm  friendship  which 
had  not  been  frozen  out  in  all  these  winters." 

"  Indeed,  you  are  right ;  and,  Rachel,  you  know 
that  it  is  only  because  you  have  thought  it  best, 
that  the  winter  makes  a  gap  in  our  intercourse  ; 
we  should  be  only  too  thankful  to  have  one  or 
both  of  you  with  us  for  as  long  as  you  could  be 
spared  from  home." 

"  You  are  very  kind  ;  but  it's  best  as  it  is.  It 
would  not  be  in  human  nature,  certainly  not  in 
Madge's,  to  enjoy  all  that  you  would  give  her  at 
your  house,  and  then  come  back  here  and  be  con- 
tent, —  I  do  not  mean  with  her  home,  but  with 
the  people  to  whom  she  belongs." 

"  I  know  you  are  wise,  and  I  never  shall  inter- 
fere. But  how  pretty  she  is,  and  how  she  attracts 
them  all  about  her  !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Rachel  ;  "  and  I  really  wonder 
sometimes  that  Madge  is  such  a  good,  practical 
little  creature  at  home.  We  should  all  find  it 
hard  to  resist  her  if  she  insisted  upon  having  her 
own  way." 

"  And  one  of  these  days,  Rachel,  how  is  it  to 
be  ?  Do  you  ever  think  where  the  future  hus- 
band is  to  come  from?  Not  out  of  Hartfield, 
surely." 


A    SUMMER    EVENING.  37 

"  I  try  to  think  that  he  is  a  great  way  off  as 
yet.  If  I  could  choose,  I  should  hope  that  Madge 
would  not  be  married  for  so  long  that  she  would 
care  for  a  man  of  stronger  character  than  would 
be  likely  to  attract  her  now.  But  there,  how  fool- 
ish even  to  think  about  her  marrying  till  the 
coming  man  knocks  at  the  door  ! " 

It  was  on  Mrs.  Lee's  lips  to  say,  "  Look  now  ; " 
but  she  checked  herself,  though  she  fancied  that 
Rachel  was  observing  what  passed  inside  between 
Madge  and  Mr.  Forrester  ;  while  Dr.  Rowland 
stood  by,  evidently  annoyed,  but  trying  to  look 
quite  indifferent. 

"  Then  we  shall  meet  at  the  picnic  to-morrow," 
Mr.  Forrester  said.  "  And  what  is  the  order  of  the 
day  ?  —  for  I  shall  be  very  happy  if  you  will  trust 
yourself  in  my  care,  and  let  me  drive  you,  Miss 
Anderson." 

"  I  think  Mrs.  Lee  has  arranged  —  "  Dr.  How- 
land  began,  and  then  stopped,  fancying  that  he 
saw  in  Madge's  face  a  willingness  to  accept  ;  but 
she  knew  very  well  that  her  only  chance  for 
the  picnic  at  all  was  that  she  should  go  under 
Mrs.  Lee's  wing  ;  so  she  refused,  with  a  pretty 
blush,  for  which  she  was  not  exactly  accounta- 
ble, but  which  accomplished  all  she  could  have 
wished  ;  leaving  Mr.  Forrester  with  the  impres- 
sion that  she  would  have  been  glad  to  accept  — 
"if  Rowland  had  not  stood  there  as  if  he  had 


38  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

a    right     to    decide     the     matter  —  confound 
him  !  " 

Some  more  music  followed  ;  and  as  Rachel 
was  thinking  how  best  to  take  leave  without  hav- 
ing Madge's  admirers  in  attendance,  a  tall  figure 
appeared  from  the  shrubbery  —  her  cousin  Da- 
vid's !  A  word  to  Mrs.  Lee,  who  attracted 
Madge  to  the  piazza,  and  they  were  walking 
down  the  avenue  before  she  had  been  missed. 
This  was  not  quite  what  Madge  had  planned 
and  hoped  as  the  end  of  the  evening.  David  was 
all  very  well  —  very  necessary  indeed  to  Madge, 
as  regarded  every-day  life,  but  not  entertaining 
for  a  moonlight  walk.  He  had  led  a  varied  ex- 
istence, alternately  coaxed  and  plagued  ever 
since  his  arrival  from  Scotland,  a  big,  straggling 
boy  of  thirteen,  when  he  fell  an  instant  victim  to 
the  charms  of  his  baby  cousin.  And  for  this  de- 
votion Madge  rewarded  him  with  the  sort  of 
regard  a  woman  is  apt  to  bestow  upon  the  man 
whom  it  has  cost  her  no  trouble  to  win.  Of 
course  he  admires  her,  as  the  great  river  goes 
over  the  fall  ;  what  else  is  there  for  him  to  do  ? 
Not  that  Madge  ever  defined  her  sentiments  on 
this  or  any  other  subject.  She  was  as  free  from 
introspection  as  a  young  woman  of  this  thinking 
period  could  well  be.  Among  David's  virtues 
was  his  readiness,  not  only  to  believe  himself  in 
the  wrong,  but  to  be  forgiven  afterwards,  when- 
ever her  teasing  mood  was  over. 


*        A    SUMMER    EVENING.  39 

So  when  Rachel  said,  in  her  kindly  way,  "I 
am  so  much  obliged  to  you  for  walking  up  for  us, 
David,  I  am  afraid  you  must  have  come  home 
very  tired,"  Madge  added,  rather  loftily,  "  It 
seems  a  pity  for  David  to  come  for  us  if  he  is 
so  very  tired,  as  he  is  not  at  all  needed,  and  I  am 
afraid  it  looks  a  little  officious  to  other  people." 

"  Why,  Madge  !  "  David  broke  in  ;  "  you  know  I 
only  came  —  " 

"  Of  course,  I  know  you  only  came  because 
you  thought  you  must ;  and  you  are  very  kind 
indeed,  but  you  need  not  do  it  again  ;  for  there 
is  always  some  one  who  is  very  glad  to  come 
with  us."  And  then,  as  if  David  were  disposed 
of  forever,  she  turned  to  Rachel.  "  Oh,  Rachel, 
this  is  such  a  pleasant  plan  of  Helen's  for  the 
picnic  to-morrow  !  Every  one  who  was  there 
to-night  is  going,  and  I  shall  have  an  enchanting 
time.  You  will  help  me  to  finish  my  blue  mus- 
lin, won't  you  ?  " 

David  never  had  learned,  and  probably  never 
would,  when  his  cousin  Madge  was  unsafe  for 
him  to  approach,  and  he  said,  impulsively,  "  Oh, 
Madge,  you  can't  go  to-morrow  !  It  is  the  day 
for  Mrs.  Parker's  bee,  and  we  are  all  going  ;  and 
you  know  you  said  you  would  let  me  drive  you 
over,  and  try  the  new  black  horse." 

"  Now  that  is  so  like  you,  David,"  Madge  an- 
swered, "  to  remind  me  of  that  stupid  bee,  when 


4O  FROM    MADGE   TO    MARGARET* 

you  see  that  I  might  have  such  a  delightful 
time  with  the  Lees.  Mother  and  Rachel  can 
go  to  Mrs.  Parker's,  and  I'm  sure  I  should  not 
think  of  trusting  myself  with  that  new  horse  of 
yours." 

"  Why,  I  thought  that  you  really  wanted  to  go, 
and  I  am  sure  we  shall  all  be  very  much  disap- 
pointed if  you  are  not  there." 

"  Yes,  and  you  never  seem  to  imagine  that  some 
one  else  will  be  just  as  much  disappointed  if  I  do 
not  go  to  the  picnic.  I  may  just  as  well  choose 
what  will  give  me  the  most  pleasure." 

This  was  not  soothing  to  David's  feelings,  who 
had  caught  sight  of  the  group  at  the  drawing- 
room  window  ;  but  before  he  could  speak,  Rachel 
interposed  : 

"  I  am  sorry  that  the  two  things  should  come  on 
the  same  day,  for  I  know  that  mother  would  not 
hurt  Mrs.  Parker's  feelings  on  any  account ;  but 
Mrs.  Lee  said  that  it  would  be  such  a  great  dis- 
appointment to  Helen  if  you  did  not  go,  that  I 
promised  to  arrange  it  if  I  could." 

"  There,  David,  you  see  that  I  have  really  a 
good  reason  for  wanting  to  go  to  the  picnic,  and 
you  would  be  sorry  yourself  to  have  me  vex 
Miss  Lee.  You  said,  only  the  other  day,  that  you 
thought  she  had  such  delightful  manners,  and  how 
much  she  had  improved  me." 

To  which  David  answered,  under  the  impres- 


A    SUMMER    EVENING.  4! 

sion  that  he  was  making  a  most  unexceptionable 
compliment : 

"  I  never  thought  of  saying  that  Miss  Lee  could 
improve  you." 

"  Oh,  no,"  Madge  said,  with  a  little  pathetic 
quiver  in  her  voice,  which  she  knew  of  old  would 
bring  David  to  subjection  instantly,  "  I  knew 
you  did  not  think  that  I  really  had  improved, 
only  that  I  might  if  I  should  see  more  of  Miss 
Lee." 

David  protested  that  he  never  said  anything  so 
unkind  ;  he  only  meant  that  nothing  could  ever 
make  his  darling  little  Madge  more  charming,  arid 
he  supposed  there  never  had  been,  and  never 
would  be,  such  a  great  stupid  fellow  as  he  was. 

Affairs  having  been  brought  to  a  very  satisfac- 
tory pass,  and  Madge  feeling  sure  that  David 
would  not  say  a  word  before  her  father  and  mother 
to  interfere  with  her  plans,  she  took  him  into 
favor  instantly,  and  entertained  him  the  rest  of 
the  way  home  with  her  droll  account  of  the  com- 
pliments which  she  had  received  that  evening, 
and  to  which  she  had  listened,  at  the  time,  with 
such  a  pretty,  shy  grace,  that  Mr.  Forrester 
thought  her  "  the  most  charming  little  rosebud  he 
had  ever  seen." 

When  they  were  alone  together  at  home,  Rachel 
read  her  one  of  her  customary  gentle  lectures  on 
her  treatment  of  David,  — "  such  a  dear  good 


42  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

fellow,  who  cares  for  you  ten  times  more  than  you 
deserve  ; "  and  all  that  Madge  said  was,  "  You 
never  wanted  to  plague  your  kitten  when  you 
were  a  little  girl,  and  so  you  know  nothing  about 
it,  Rachel  dear." 


A    HAKTFIELD    KETTLE-DRUM.  43 


CHAPTER   III. 

» 

A    HARTFIELD    KETTLE-DRUM. 

THE  bee  at  Mrs.  Parker's  was  one  of  those 
neighborly  arrangements  by  which  the  dwellers 
in  country  districts,  where  festivities  are  scarce, 
manage  to  secure  a  sociable  afternoon  and  even- 
ing for  themselves,  and  at  the  same  time  do  a 
kind  turn  to  a  friend.  Mrs.  Parker,  the  tired 
mother  of  six  unwearied  boys,  who,  if  they  could 
have  worn  stove  funnels  instead  of  trousers, 
would  have  managed  to  wriggle  their  knees 
through  them  in  one  game  at  marbles,  welcomed 
the  proposition  that  her  friends  should  come  and 
"sew  her  up"  for  the  winter,  particularly  as  it 
included  their  bringing  with  them  every  form 
of  cake  and  pie  known  to  dyspepsia,  and  leav- 
ing behind  them  a  widow's  cruse  of  jam  and 
pickles. 

One  reason  for  Rachel's  willingness  to  gain 
consent  for  Madge's  joining  the  picnic  was,  that 
she  fully  sympathized  with  her  sister's  apprecia- 
tion of  the  tediousness  of  spending  a  long  after- 
noon in  listening  to  the  good  women  who  consid- 


44  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

ered  that  the  most  agreeable  talker  was  the  one 
who  could  tell  the  same  story  over  in  the  greatest 
number  of  different  ways.  So  with  equal  cheer- 
fulness did  she  aid  in  giving  the  last  touches  to 
the  dress  her  sister  was  to  wear,  and  to  the  pack- 
ing of  the  baskets,  which  were  Mrs.  Anderson's 
liberal  share  of  the  Parker  feast. 

"  You  look  like  a  piece  of  the  sky,  little  one," 
her  father  said  as  Madge  came  flying  down  stairs 
in  the  blue  muslin  ;  "  but  I  half  wish  you  were 
going  along  with  your  mother  and  Rachel." 

"  Oh,  no,  father,"  Madge  said,  coaxingly.  "  Think 
how  much  wiser  it  is  for  me  to  spend  this 
lovely  day  out  of  doors,  instead  of  being  shut  up 
with  all  those  good,  dull  people.  They  only  talk 
about  their  house-cleaning,  and  whose  baby  has 
the  most  teeth  and  measles.  It  is  so  tiresome. 
And  you  know  you  always  manage  to  have  some- 
thing happen  to  the  horse,  so  that  you  never  get 
there  till  mother  is  putting  on  her  bonnet  to  come 
home." 

"  It's  no  matter  about  me,  because  I'm  old  and 
nobody  wants  me ;  but  you'd  brighten  them  all 
lip  so  they'd  forget  their  measles,  and  talk  about 
pleasant  things.  Now  there's  Rachel,  she  doesn't 
mind  it." 

"  Oh,  it's  very  different  with  Rachel ;  the  old 
ladies  say  to  her,  '  What  a  lovely  smile  you've  got, 
so  like  your  dear  mother  ;  won't  you  just  thread 


A    HARTFIELD    KETTLE-DRUM.  45 

this  needle  for  me  ? '  Then  they  ask  her  about 
shirts  and  all  sorts  of  wise  things  ;  but  nobody 
pays  me  any  attention,  and  I  just  sit  in  a  corner 
and  sew  up  my  fingers." 

"  There,  run  away,  you  midget.  I  suppose  I 
must  let  you  go,  now  you've  got  that  blue  gown 
on.  Mrs.  Lee's  carriage  is  at  the  gate,  and  I  will 
go  down  and  ask  her  to  take  good  care  of  you." 

He  stopped  at  the  window  on  his  way  back,  to 
say  interrogatively,  "  I  hope  we  are  not  spoiling 
that  child,  Hester  ?  " 

"  I  hope  not,  I'm  sure  ;  I  don't  believe  we  are. 
It's  not  worth  while  to  insist  upon  her  doing  what 
she  does  not  like  when  there's  no  right  or  wrong 
about  it.  Rachel  is  my  conscience,  and  she  ad- 
vised me  this  morning  to  let  her  go ;  so  I  don't 
think  we  need  worry." 

"  Mother's  conscience,  eh  ?  and  father's  right 
hand  ;  that's  about  all  a  daughter  can  be.  And  to 
reward  you,  none  of  us  seem  to  think  of  asking 
whether  you  like  to  go  to  the  sewing-circle  or 
not,"  her  father  said,  leaning  in  to  lay  his  hand 
lovingly  on  the  smooth,  brown  hair,  so  different 
from  Madge's  curly  friz. 

"  Don't  worry  about  me,  father  dear,  for  I  do 
like  to  go.  It's  dull  for  Madge,  dear  little  soul ; 
but  I'm  old-fashioned,  and  I've  known  them  all 
my  days,  so  that  I  really  feel  interested  in  their 
houses  and  babies.  And  there's  a  better  reason 


46  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

still :  Mother  could  never  manage  her  great  bas- 
kets without  me,  could  you,  dear  ?  " 

Mrs.  Parker's  sewing-circle  was  much  like 
other  gatherings  of  the  kind.  To  women  whose 
lives  are  spent  in  working  and  thinking,  each  for 
the  members  of  her  own  little  circle,  it  is  no  small 
excitement  to  come  together  once  in  a  while,  and 
discuss  the  great  questions  of  their  world.  This 
was  their  social-science  meeting,  with  perhaps  a 
branch  for  investigation  of  character.  Mrs.  Par- 
ker sat  in  her  parlor  enjoying  the  unwonted  sen- 
sation of  doing  but  one  thing  at  a  time  :  —  holding 
her  baby  upon  her  lap,  without  trying  to  ac- 
complish darning  a'  stocking  held  aloft  out  of 
reach  of  his  fat  hands.  She  was  peacefully  un- 
conscious of  the  two  vigorous  boys  who  had 
climbed  behind  her  into  her  chair,  and,  with  their 
knees  planted  in  the  small  of  her  back,  were 
having  a  trial  of  strength  as  to  which  would 
soonest  push  her  out.  To  her,  the  sound  of  the 
various  sewing-machines  which  came  from  diifer- 
ent  rooms,  brought  by  her  kind  friends  for  the 
afternoon,  were  as  the  music  of  the  spheres  ;  for 
they  told  of  the  miles  of  stitching  which  would  be 
accomplished  before  they  ceased.  Talk  of  Sisy- 
phus !  —  what  were  his  labors  compared  with  those 
of  the  mother  of  six  boys,  trying  to  reach  the 
bottom  of  that  weary  work-basket,  which  grew 
with  the  weekly  wash  till  she  felt  as  if  she  should 


A    HARTFIELD    KETTLE-DRUM.  47 

be  found  some  day  buried  alive  in  a  tomb  of  small 
jackets  and  trousers  ?  But  now  she  forgot  all  her 
cares,  and  listened  to  the  words  of  wisdom  which 
went  on  about  her. 

"  Mrs.  Richards,  what  do  you  allow  for  the  neck- 
band of  a  shirt  ? " 

"Well,  the  deacon  he  likes  everything  real 
roomy,  and  he  says  he  never  did  want  to  tuck  his 
chin  inside  his  collar  yet ;  but  he  might  be  took 
with  a  fancy  for  it ;  so  the  rule  he  gave  me,  the 
first  shirt  I  made  him  after  we  were  married, 
was,  'Measure  from  the  back  of  your  neck  to  the 
tip  of  your  chin,  Mary  Jane,  and  then  you'll  know 
if  I  choke  to  death  'tain't  your  fault.' " 

"  I  don't  believe  Mrs.  Slocumb,  next  door  to 
me,  would  allow  her  husband  an  extra  inch,  not 
if  it  would  save  him  choking  on  the  spot." 

"Well,  well,"  said  Mrs.  Richards,  "some  folks 
are  made  on  a  skimp  pattern  to  start  with,  and 
there  don't  seem  to  be  any  tucks  to  let  out  any- 
where to  allow  of  their  hearts  growing  any  bigger. 
As  for  Mr.  Slocumb,  he's  so  lazy  that  he  don't 
more'n  get  out  of  bed  to  see  the  sun  set  ;  so  I  don't 
think  I  should  waste  much  cloth  on  him,  if  he  was 
my  husband." 

"  My  children  think,"  said  Mrs.  Babson,  "  that 
it's  a  pity  all  mothers  couldn't  be  cut  out  on  your 
pattern;  for  your  Benny  told  them  his  mother's 
doughnut-box  was  built  way  down'into  the  earth, 
so  as  to  hold  enough  for  everybody." 


48  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

Mrs.  Richards  gave  a  comfortable  little  laugh, 
suggestive  that  her  Benny's  lot  in  life  was  blessed 
above  other  boys',  as  she  answered  :  "  Don't  give 
me  any  credit,  though  ;  the  deacon  's  a  still  man  ; 
but  you  never  see  such  a  provider.  Why,  I  don't 
suppose  I'm  ever  out  of  his  thoughts  when  he's 
at  market.  My  worry  is,  that  I  mayn't  make 
the  best  of  such  first-class  stores  as  he  sends 
home." 

"  I  don't  mind,"  said  Mrs.  Johnson,  who,  as  wife 
to  the  sexton  and  undertaker  of  Hartfield,  gener- 
ally had  some  thrilling  anecdotes  to  relate,  —  "I 
don't  mind  meanness  in  this  world  so  much  ;  but 
when  it  reaches  into  the  grave,  there  I  think  we'd 
ought  to  learn  a  lesson  from  it.  Now,  do  you  be- 
lieve, there  was  Mrs.  Sheppard,  she  had  set  her 
heart  on  being  laid  out  in  that  new  black  silk  of 
hers.  Mercy  knows  it  hadn't  rained  black  silks  in 
her  life,  and  if  she  wanted  to  look  her  best  the 
last  time  she  was  going  to  receive  her  friends,  as 
you  may  say,  I  should  think  they  might  have  taken 
a  pride  in  it.  But  no  ;  there  was  her  daughter 
ripping  out  the  back  breadths,  just  because  Mrs. 
Sheppard  was  too  far  gone  to  open  her  eyes. 
Lyddy  Ann  knew  very  well  she'd  have  caught  it 
if  her  mother  had  been  what  she  used  to  be." 

"What  a  presence  she  had,"  said  Mrs.  Babson, 
"  and  how  she  used  to  walk  down  the  aisle  on 
Sundays  with  'Mr.  Sheppard,  and  the  children 


A    HARTFIELD    KETTLE-DRUM.  49 

after  her  by  twos  ;  but  you  did  her  full  justice  at 
the  funeral,  Mrs.  Johnson." 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Johnson,  modestly,  "I  did 
my  best.  Those  girls  never  had  much  snap  to 
'em,  and  they  couldn't  seem  to  understand  their 
mother's  ideas  about  how  she  was  to  be  dressed, 
for  she  was  just  as  set  about  it  as  if  it  was  Fourth 
of  July  instead  of  the  day  of  judgment.  So  I 
said,  '  Now,  Mrs.  Sheppard,  you  just  see  if  I 
haven't  got  your  notion  about  that  lace  ? '  and 
I  folded  a  handkerchief  round  my  neck,  and  there 
it  was  complete ;  and  she  said  it  would  cover  up 
all  the  places  where  she'd  fell  away.  Do  you  know 
I  liked  the  looks  of  it  so  much,  that  the  other  day 
when  I  was  going  to  Mrs.  May's  silver  wedding, 
I  thought  Td  just  try  putting  some  lace  on  my- 
self, and  my  girls  thought  it  was  real  becoming. 
I  didn't  wear  it  to-day,  because  I  thought  if  any 
of  you  had  been  at  the  funeral,  it  might  give  you 
a  sort  of  a  turn." 

"  Now,  do  you  know,"  said  Mrs.  Richards,  "  I 
think  it's  only  just  nature  to  want  your  friends  to 
think  of  you  at  your  prettiest  when  you're  gone  ; 
fact  is,  I  don't  believe  a  woman  is  just  what  she 
ought  to  be  without  a  little  vanity  —  not  much, 
you  know  —  like  the  mace  in  your  stewed  oysters, 
just  enough,  so's  you  don't  know  what  makes  'em 
taste- so  good.  I  should  think  a  man  would  for- 
get all  about  the  nice  young  girl  he  married 
4 


5<D  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

when  he  comes  home  at  night  and  sees  a  dismal 
woman,  with  her  hair  twisted  up  on  top  of  her 
head,  and  not  so  much  as  a  clean  collar  on  to  re- 
ceive him." 

Rachel,  who  was  sitting  close  by,  could  not 
help  smiling  at  the  contrast  of  the  sweet,  rosy, 
middle-age  of  the  speaker  with  the  picture  drawn, 
and  Mrs.  Richards  nodded  and  whispered  to  her, 
"  You  are  not  that  sort,  Rachel  dear.  One  of 
these  days  somebody  '11  say  to  you,  as  the  deacon 
does  to  me,  that  coming  home  to  supper  is  just 
as  good  as  going  courting ;  better,  too,  because 
he  can  do  it  with  his  slippers  on." 

And  so  the  afternoon  wore  on  ;  from  one  group 
came  good-natured  laugh  and  chat,  while  in 
another  were  solemn  whisperings  over  their 
neighbors'  woes  or  sins*.  Rachel  sat  with  her 
work  by  good,  kind  Mrs.  Richards,  who,  of  all  the 
Hartfield  people,  was  the  one  towards  whom  she 
felt  most  drawn. 

Men  and  women  are  amazingly  alike,  whether 
their  lives  are  spent  among  bricks  and  mortar,  or 
green  fields  ;  and  Rachel  felt  in  the  woman, 
whose  tender  heart  made  her  nurse  and  com- 
forter to  all  about  her,  the  same  nature  which  in 
Mrs.  Lee  sought  to  diminish,  in  as  far  as  she 
could,  the  suffering  in  a  great  city.  The  faults 
and  vanities,  too,  are  the  same,  with  the  differ- 
ence, that  the  good  taste  which  comes  from  a  cul- 


A    HARTFIELD    KETTLE-DRUM.  5! 

tivated  life  may  clothe  them  in  garments  more 
attractive.  The  wife  of  the  country  shopkeeper 
coaxes  away  the  half  year's  profits  which  should 
be  put  in  the  bank,  that  she  may  invest  them  in 
a  shawl  of  as  many  colors  as  a  prize  chromo  of 

autumn  scenery  ;  while  Mrs. ,  of  the  Avenue, 

whose  husband  has  gone  so  far  beyond  his  means 
that  he  has  quite  forgotten  what  they  are,  sets 
her  heart  upon  the  priceless  web  of  lace,  which 
her  ignorant  sister  in  folly  would  scorn,  as  making 
so  little  show. 

The  sewing  went  vigorously  on,  and  the  wrin- 
kles disappeared  from  Mrs.  Parker's  forehead  as 
she  contemplated  the  growing  piles  of  cotton  and 
woollen  garments  which  to  her  meant  not  only 
comfort  for  her  children,  but  relief  from  patching 
and  backache  in  the  coming  winter.  When  the 
company  had  gone,  she  would  find  at  the  bottom 
of  the  basket  a  few  things  which  had  not  been 
made  that  afternoon.  As  she  recognized  Mrs. 
Anderson's  last  winter's  purple  merino,  and  Mrs. 
Richards'  cloth  cloak  —  "handsomer  than  they 
were  the  day  they  were  bought,  because  they've  got 
a  look  of  the  dear  souls  that  wore  them,"  —  with  a 
pretty  quilted  silk  hood  of  Rachel's  making,  if 
a  few  tears  fell  upon  them,  they  would  be  not 
only  of  gratitude,  but  regret  that  she  should  have 
let  herself  become  discouraged  with  such  kind 
friends  near  her. 


52  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

The  feast  upon  such  an  occasion  is  by  no  means 
an  unimportant  affair ;  for  in  this  way  those  re- 
ceipts which  spring  from  a  creative  brain,  and 
have  mysterious  qualities  n»t  to  be  communi- 
cated to  paper,  are  often  diffused  over  the  land. 
You  may  see  a  matron  apparently  lost  in  earnest 
thought,  but  her  jaws  are  moving  very  gently  as 
she  nibbles  a  corner  of  cake,  hoping  in  this  way 
to  be  able  to  detect  which  of  all  the  spices  gives 
that  wonderful  taste,  of  which  she  is  too  proud  to 
ask  any  explanation  ;  but  if  she  is  a  woman  of 
genius,  her  husband  will  rise  up  and  call  her 
blessed  some  night  when  he  comes  home  to 
supper  and  this  delicious  material  melts  in  his 
mouth.  She  sees  the  whole  scene,  and  herself, 
saying  with  dignity,  "  As  I  can't  be  beat  on  riz' 
bread  and  sponge-cake,  I  thought  it  was  a  pity  if 
I  couldn't  find  out  what  it  was  made  of  by  just 
putting  my  tongue  to  it.  Mrs.  Jones  is  a  good 
Christian  woman,  but  there's  others  knows  as 
much  as  she  does  about  fruit  cake." 

While  the  preparations  went  on,  there  was  a 
dissolving  view  of  small  Parkers  constantly  ap- 
pearing and  disappearing  at  the  kitchen  window  ; 
for  it  was  more  than  could  be  expected  of  mortal 
boys  to  keep  up  the  appearance  of  being  entirely 
engrossed  in  play  (as  they  were  told  would  be 
proper),  with  the  knowledge  of  what  was  going 
on  within ;  but  when  it  came  actually  to  sitting 


A    HARTFIELD    KETTLE-DRUM.  53 

on  the  back-door  steps,  surrounded  with  wedges 
of  Washington  and  other  pies,  and  a  vista  of 
cream-cakes  in  the  distance,  no  wonder  if  Joe 
said  to  Johnnie,  in  the  interval  of  bites,  "  Do  you 
think  there's  folks  lives  like  this  always  ? " 


54  FROM    MADGE   TO    MARGARET. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

AFTER  THE  STEED  WAS  STOLEN. 

THE  two  parties  reached  home  about  the  same 
time,  Madge  the  most  exhausted  apparently  by 
her  labors,  or  amusements,  as  one  might  choose 
to  call  them. 

"  Yes,  it  had  been  very  pleasant,"  she  said  ;  "  at 
least  every  one  seemed  to  have  enjoyed  them- 
selves ;  but  all  picnics  were  so  much  alike,  there 
was  not  very  much  to  tell  about  this  one."  And 
to  Rachel's  surprise,  she  seemed  rather  more 
interested  to  hear  of  the  bee,  and  how  Mrs.  Par- 
ker had  enjoyed  her  presents,  than  to  tell  of  her 
own  doings.  Rachel  thought  that  the  next  day 
she  would  be  sure  to  hear  more,  but  the  only 
result  seemed  to  be  that  Madge  was  less  ready 
than  usual  to  sing  over  her  work,  and  looked 
more  likely  to  cry  than  to  laugh  when  her  father 
joked  her  about  the  day  before.  But  at  the 
Lees'  the  picnic  was  more  freely  discussed. 

"  Mamma,"  Helen  Lee  said,  coming  into  the 
room  where  Mrs.  Lee  was  always  to  be  found  in 
the  morning,  keeping  house  with  pen  and  ink,  as 


AFTER  THE  STEED  WAS  STOLEN.       5$ 

the  family  said,  "  you  and  I  are  apt  to  strike  out 
ideas  without  any  consultation  together  ;  I  won- 
der if  a  new  thought  has  suggested  itself  to  you 
within  a  few  days." 

"  I  should  not  like  to  make  this  a  test  question 
of  our  intimacy,"  her  mother  said,  smiling  ;  "give 
me  a  clue,  and  I  will  try  to  think  the  same  thing 
now,  whether  I  have  before  or  not." 

"  Well,  then,  Jack  has  certainly  been  very  un- 
like himself  for  the  last  few  days ;  I  cannot 
account  for  the  change,  unless  he  is  in  love." 

"And  I  have  been  waiting  to  see  when  you 
would  open  your  eyes  and  find  out  how  entirely 
he  has  lost  his  heart  to  Madge  Anderson.  I 
began  to  think  of  it  some  weeks  ago,  and  yester- 
day I  felt  sure." 

"  There  was  something  going  wrong  yester- 
day," Helen  said.  "  It  was  successful  enough  as  a 
picnic,  and  I  think  that  all  the  people  we  invited 
enjoyed  themselves  ;  byt  I  felt  troubled  all  day, 
Jack  was  so  blue,  and  seemed  to  be  doing  nothing 
but  watch  Mr.  Forrester's  attentions  to  Madge ; 
and  if  Robert  Forrester  sets  his  heart  on  a  flirta- 
tion with  her  there  will  be  trouble,  for  she  is  no 
match  for  him." 

"  Yes,  I  watched  that,  too,  and  it  added  to  my 
worries  ;  but  what  do  you  think,  Helen,  does  she 
care  for  Jack,  for  I  cannot  decide  ? " 

"  Neither  can   I ;   and  what  is  more,  I  doubt 


56  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

very  much  if  Madge  knows  herself,  or  will  know, 
till  he  asks  her.  She  is  so  used  to  winning  every 
one  with  her  pretty  ways,  that  she  takes  it  all  as 
a  matter  of  course.  And  then,  too,  it  is  not  as  if 
Jack  were  the  first  man  of  his  class  in  life  whom 
she  had  known.  Think  how  Fred  has  always 
played  at  making  love  to  her,  at.d  she  has  taken 
it  just  as  it  was  meant,  and  perhaps  she  thinks 
that  Jack's  devotion  means  no  more.  But,  mam- 
ma, suppose  that  he  loves  her,  and  she  loves  him, 
what  then  —  would  his  father  ever  give  his  con- 
sent to  such  a  match  ? " 

"  Don't  ask  me,  dear,  for  I  have  no  opinion  to 
give.  I  comfort  myself  with  thinking  that  I  am 
perfectly  innocent  of  having  tried  to  influence  the 
matter  in  any  way ;  and  so  far  as  my  knowledge 
of  Mr.  Rowland  goes,  I  should  say  that  he  was 
quite  as  likely,  for  some  reason  of  his  own,  or  for 
none  at  all,  to  approve  the  very  thing  one  would 
have  thought  most  likely  to  displease  him." 

"I  only  hope,"  Helen  said,  "that  dear  little 
Madge's  happiness  is  not  to  be  sacrificed." 

A  tap  at  the  door,  and  Jack's  face  appeared  at 
the  opening.  "  I  hope  I  am  not  interrupting 
secrets,"  he  said,  as  he  stood  on  the  threshold. 

"  Not  vital  ones.  You  look  as  if  you  needed  a 
confidant  more  than  I  do,  and  mamma  is  the 
great  consoler.  That  is  the  reason  she  chooses 
to  sit  in  this  little  room,  because  there  is  only 


AFTER  THE  STEED  WAS  STOLEN.      57 

room  for  two  ;  so  the  third  party  must  go,  whether 
they  will  or  not.  Take  her  advice,  Jack,  what- 
ever it  is  ;  good  luck  always  goes  with  mamma." 

"  Well,  what  is  it,  my  dear  ? "  Mrs.  Lee  said,  as 
the  door  closed.  "Come  here  on  the  sofa  and 
tell  me  all  about  it.  I  am  relieved  to  talk  to  you, 
for  I  felt  as  if  there  were  thunder  in  the  air." 

"  It's  a  great  -deal,"  he  said,  "  to  me,  at  least ; 
and  to  begin  with,  read  that,"  handing  her  his 
father's  letter. 

"  This  is  a  change,"  she  said,  when  the  letter 
so  characteristic  of  Mr.  Rowland,  full  of  affection 
and  selfishness,  had  been  read  ;  "  and  a  great  dis- 
appointment to  you,  to  us  all,  if  you  must  act 
upon  it.  Have  you  made  up  your  mind  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  fought  against  it  at  first  ;  but  there  is 
nothing  else  to  do  but  go  ;  it  need  not  be  for 
very  long,  if  I  manage  judiciously.  A  few  letters 
from  the  older  physicians,  which  I  can  easily 
have,  telling  him  that  I  can  make  myself  of  im- 
portance here,  will  go  a  great  way  with  him  ;  for 
he  is  proud  of  me  —  poor  old  father,  and  I  feel 
very  sure  that  he  will  live  contentedly  here  with 
the  new  interests  I  shall  bring  around  him.  But 
this  is  not  all,  Aunt  Fanny  :  this  was  a  matter  of 
duty  which  I  must  settle  for  myself.  It  is  about 
something  else  I  want  your  advice." 

"  It's  at  your  service,  Jack,  such  as  it  is,  and 
a  great  deal  of  sympathy  with  it ;  but  if  the  sub- 


58  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

ject  is  what  I  think,  I  believe  you  must  settle 
that  too.  I  should  not  dare  to  influence  you  too 
strongly  in  such  a  matter." 

"  Then,  after  all,  it  is  no  secret  to  you  that  I 
have  lost  my  heart  to  Helen's  friend  ?  That  is 
the  reason  why  I  have  been  so  savage  over  my 
father's  letter  ;  most  disagreeable  I  have  made 
myself,  I  know.  Now,  what  do  you  say,  Aunt 
Fanny,  have  I  any  reason  to  hope  that  she  loves 
me,  and  do  you  think  that  I  could  make  her 
happy  ? " 

"  As  to  giving  you  advice,  Jack,  I  feel  too  great 
anxiety  not  only  for  your  happiness,  but  for  hers, 
to  take  the  responsibility  of  settling  the  matter. 
It  has  been  in  my  thoughts  very  much  lately,  and 
I  can  give  you  the  benefit  of  them." 

"  Yes,  tell  me  honestly  what  you  think.  I  love 
Madge  as  dearly  as  a  man  can  ;  but  if  I  know 
myself,  I  would  go  off  without  a  word,  sooner 
than  ask  her  to  marry  me,  if  I  thought  it  were 
not  for  her  happiness.  You  are  afraid,  I  know, 
that  she  should  be  unhappy  if  brought  near  my 
father,  .but  I  am  sure  that  he  is  not  quite  what 
you  recollect  him  in  my  poor  mother's  life." 

"  But,  Jack,  will  it  not  be  a  great  disappoint- 
ment to  your  father  that  you  should  marry  a  girl 
whom  he  has  never  seen,  and  one  whom  he  would 
consider  to  be  out  of  his  own  class  —  a  farmer's 
daughter  ? " 


AFTER  THE  STEED  WAS  STOLEN.      59 

"  I  do  not  believe  he  would  think  of  that.  He 
has  been  away  from  this  country  so  long  that 
the  name  of  half  the  families  in  New  York  soci- 
ety would  be  as  strange  to  him  as  hers.  Her 
beauty  would  have  great  influence  with  him,  and 
certainly  I  have  seen  no  girl,  since  I  came  home, 
whose  manners  were  more  sweet  and  lady-like 
than  hers." 

"  Yes,  indeed  ;  as  far  as  that  goes  you  need  have 
nothing  to  fear.  The  tone  in  her  home  is  of  real 
refinement ;  and  Mrs.  Anderson  is  what  I  call  one 
of  the  born  ladies  ;  with  Madge's  tact,  she  would 
soon  catch  the  conventional  air  of  any  society 
you  chose  to  place  her  in." 

And  then  Jack  asked  imploringly,  did  his  aunt 
believe  that  Madge  loved  him  ? 

She  could  give  him  no  decided  hope ;  could 
only  say  that  she  knew  no  reason  why  she  should 
not,  and  that  Madge  was  not  at  all  the  sort  of 
girl,  for  all  her  frank  cordial  manner,  who  would 
be  likely  to  show  her  affections  on  the  outside. 

"  I  was  so  wretched  yesterday  that  I  believe  I 
behaved  like  a  brute  even  to  her ;  but  it  was 
rather  more  than  I  could  stand  to  see  Forrester 
devoting  himself  to  her,  when  I  was  longing  to 
have  her  to  myself  on  the  last  day." 

"  Madge  did  not  know  that  it  was  the  last,  or 
perhaps  she  would  have  helped  you  to  be  rid  of 
him.  That  is  one  of  the  unequal  things  in  a 


6O  FROM    MADGE    TO   MARGARET. 

woman's  lot;  that  she  must  stand  still  and  receive 
or  not  receive  a  man's  attentions,  as  he  chooses 
to  offer  them." 

Mrs.  Lee  would  say  nothing  more ;  he  must  do 
the  rest  himself.  She  felt  almost  treacherous  to 
her  good  friends,  the  Andersons,  in  allowing  such 
a  bomb-shell  to  burst  among  them  without  warn- 
ing. 

The  conversation  was  a  long  one  ;  but  Helen 
told  Jack,  as  they  met  in  the  hall,  that  he  looked 
so  many  shades  less  blue  than  when  he  went  in, 
that  if  he  had  had  a  very  unfair  share  of  her 
mother's  advice,  she  would  not  begrudge  it  to 
him.  Now  was  he  ready  for  hers  ? 

"  No,"  Jack  said  with  a  beaming  smile  ;  "  only  a 
cousinly  kiss  for  good  luck." 

"  It  would  have  gone  to  my  heart  to  have  tried 
to  dissuade  Jack,  for  he  is  desperately  in  earnest ; 
so  I  am  thankful  that  I  felt  no  prickings  of  con- 
science," Mrs.  Lee  said,  in  answer  to  her  daugh- 
ter's questioning.  "  We  know  that  Jack  would 
make  any  woman  as  happy  as  his  father  would 
let  him  ;  and  unless  transplanting  the  wild  flower 
to  a  garden  makes  a  very  great  change,  Madge 
will  be  a  lovely  wife." 

.Since  Jack  had  begun  to  think  that  the  time 
would  come  when  he  should  dare  to  ask  Madge 
to  be  his  wife,  he  had  thought  of  himself  as 
making  the  offer  at  the  place  where  he  had  first 


AFTER   THE    STEED    WAS    STOLEN.  6 1 

seen  her.  Various  impulsive  beginnings  he  had 
imagined,  trusting  that,  when  the  time  came,  his 
words  would  not  fail  him  quite  as  soon  as  they 
did  in  his  meditations  ;  but  still,  if  he  did  stam- 
mer and  make  an  idiot  of  himself,  surely  a  wo- 
man would  know,  almost  without  telling,  when  a 
man  was  desperately  in  love  with  her  ;  and  of 
this  only  was  he  sure  :  that  his  love  must  be  said, 
stammered,  or  looked,  standing  by  the  old  willow 
on  the  banks  of  Sugar-bowl  Pond. 

The  scene  of  the  meeting  had  been  no  more  ro- 
mantic than  the  name  of  the  meeting-place ;  but  this 
was  what  had  happened,  and  Jack  had  often  thought 
of  it  since  with  mingled  fun  and  tenderness  :  He 
had  arrived  from  New  York  late  in  the  afternoon, 
and  found  the  Lee  house  deserted,  except  by  his 
aunt,  who  told  him  that  Helen  had  gone  to  walk 
with  some  young  friends  staying  with  her.  She 
thought  their  destination  had  been  a  certain  pond, 
famous  for  water-lilies,  at  no  great  distance. 

It  was  a  lovely  June  evening  ;  and,  after  a  long 
day  in  the  cars,  he  said  he  should  be  very  glad 
to  stretch  himself  by  a  walk  ;  and  receiving  his 
directions,  started  to  find  the  party.  The  pond  was 
a  little  circular  piece  of  water  lying  at  the  bottom 
of  a  dell ;  and  as  Jack  came  upon  it  out  of  the 
woods  and  clambered  down  the  bank,  he  saw  only 
an  empty  boat  lying  by  the  shore,  but  he  heard 
quite  an  astonishing  sound.  Helen  Lee  had 


62  FROM   MADGE   TO    MARGARET. 

been  very  much  taken  with  a  Venetian  boat-song 
which  he  had  taught  her  in  the  winter,  and  was 
always  singing  it  about  the  house.  She  must  have 
kept  up  the  habit  here  till  the  Hartfield  birds  had 
caught  it  of  her  ;  for  from  the  branches  of  a  wil- 
low-tree, which  hung  over  the  pond,  came  the 
notes  of  his  barcarole,  not  sung,  but  whistled, 
clear  and  true,  in  sweet  trilling  notes.  The  whis- 
tle stopped  in  the  middle  of  a  strain,  and  he  took 
it  up  and  finished  the  song  as  he  came  in  view 
of  the  other  side  of  the  great  trunk. 

If  a  flash  of  lightning  had  come  out  of  the 
clear  sky,  poor  Madge  could  not  have  been  more 
confounded.  Why,  oh  why  had  not  she  cured 
herself  fifteen  minutes  ago  of  this  improper  habit 
of  whistling,  about  which  she  had  been  so  sol- 
emnly warned  often  enough  ?  Never  should  an- 
other pucker  pass  her  lips.  And  what  an  object 
she  must  present,  perched  on  a  willow-bough, 
her  feet  dangling  in  the  air,  the  consciousness  of 
a  long  rent  in  her  dress,  to  be  revealed  when 
she  did  reach  the  ground  !  As  if  this  were  not 
enough,  Helen  had  amused  herself  in  the  boat 
by  crowning  her  with  water-lilies,  making  an 
Ophelia  of  her,  as  she  said  ;  and  they  were  still 
hanging  in  her  hair,  finishing  the  absurdity  of  the 
scene. 

Madge  was  not  given  to  dwelling  on  her  ap- 
pearance, experience  having  told  her  that  it  was, 


AFTER   THE    STEED    WAS    STOLEN.  63 

as  a  rule,  satisfactory  ;  but  at  that  moment  she 
would  have  given  much  for  a  looking-glass,  that 
she  might  know  the  worst. 

The  scene,  as  it  appeared  to  Jack,  was  this : 
An  enchantingly  pretty  girl,  water-lilies  resting 
against  her  fair  hair,  their  green  and  white  con- 
trasting with  the  flush  in  her  cheeks  ;  her  atti- 
tude of  unconscious  grace,  as  she  rested  on  the 
bough,  added  to  by  the  shimmer  of  green  leaves 
about  her,  and  the  light  drapery  of  her  dress, 
which  just  revealed  her  pretty  feet. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  she  said,  in  answer  to 
Jack's  offer  of  assistance,  which  he  was  only  too 
anxious  to  have  accepted,  "  but  I  believe  I  must 
scramble  down  as  I  scrambled  up." 

The  exigency  of  the  occasion  gave  energy  to 
her  light  movements  ;  and  lifting  her  arms  to  the 
bough  above  her,  she  managed  to  rise  from  her 
seat,  ^wing  herself  to  the  ground,  and  alight  at 
Jack's  feet,  before  he  could  decide  how  he  could 
best  help  her.  Of  course,  this  was  the  foreign 
cousin,  the  fascinating  Jack,  whose  name  was 
always  in  Helen  Lee's  mouth.  And  there  she 
stood,  an  awkward  country  girl  ;  yes,  fairly  ready 
to  cry,  quite  unintentionally  deceiving  poor  Jack 
as  to  this  being  anything  but  the  real  Madge  ; 
this  shy  girl,  whose  hand  trembled  in  his  as  he 
helped  her  up  the  bank,  and  who  scarcely  dared 
to  look  at  him  lest  he  should  see  the  tears  glit- 


64  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

tering  in  her  eyes.  It  was  not  her  fault  if,  before 
the  voices  of  her  companions,  were  heard  return- 
ing from  the  woods,  the  woman  who  was  en- 
throned in  his  imagination  was  a  different  being 
from  the  bright,  sweet-tempered,  but  not  roman- 
tic girl,  who  thought  far  more  of  amusement  than 
sentiment. 

In  the  afternoon,  after  his  consultation  with 
Mrs.  Lee,  Jack  strolled  down  to  the  farm.  He 
knew  that  Mrs.  Anderson's  early  tea-hour  was 
over,  and  that  he  should  be  likely  to  find  the  sis- 
ters freed  from  all  occupation,  and  Madge  at  lib- 
erty for  a  walk  with  him,  if  it  pleased  her  to  be 
so.  Rachel  was  sitting  alone  in  the  porch,  read- 
ing ;  Madge,  she  said,  had  gone  to  the  great  barn, 
to  look  for  a  favorite  white  hen,  which  was  miss- 
ing and  supposed  to  be  hidden  in  the  hay. 

"  Might  he  go  over  and  find  her  sister  ?  " 

"  Certainly  ;  she  had,  perhaps,  gone  up  the  lad- 
der to  the  mow  ;  his  cousin  Helen  would  own  to 
as  much  climbing  as  that ;  but  if  he  would  speak 
below,  Madge  would  hear  him." 

"Thank  you;" — then  a  pause,  while  Rachel 
wondered  if  he  could  be  waiting  for  her  to  offer 
to  go  with  him,  which  she  had  supposed  at  first 
that  he  did  not  wish. 

"  Miss  Anderson,  will  you  give  me  leave  to  ask 
your  sister  to  go  for  a  stroll  with  me  ?  I  will  bring 
her  safely  back  before  dark.  I  leave  Hartfield 
to-morrow,  and  —  " 


AFTER  THE  STEED  WAS  STOLEN.      6$ 

He  looked  too  gloomy  for  Rachel  to  ask  an 
explanation  of  his  sudden  announcement,  so  she 
only  promised  to  account  to  her  mother  if  Madge 
were  a  little  late,  and  let  him  go.  The  great  barn 
was  empty  when  he  went  in,  and  no  sound  to  be 
heard  except  the  champing  of  the  cows  ranged  in 
their  stanchions  for  the  night,  and  the  twittering 
of  the  swallows  as  they  flew  round  and  round 
in  the  high  roof  ;  but  presently  from  above 
came  the  sound  of  Madge's  voice,  expostulating, 
apparently  with  energy,  and  accompanied  by  the 
equally  energetic  clucking  of  a  setting  hen. 
When  the  noise  stopped  for  a  moment,  so  that 
he  could  announce  his  presence  by  making  a 
movement  below,  she  called,  "  Oh,  David,  pray 
come  and  help  me  with  old  Whitey  ;  she  is  all 
together  too  much  for  me;" — and  as  Jack's 
head  appeared  above  the  ladder,  —  "I  am  sure  I 
beg  your  pardon,  Dr.  Rowland  ;  I  thought,  of 
course,  it  was  my  cousin  when  I  heard  your 
step." 

"  But  can't  I  help  you  as  well  ?  Here  I  am  at 
your  service.  What  is  wanted  ?  Am  I  to  wring 
the  hen's  neck  ? " 

"  Oh,  dear,  no  !  only  to  lift  her  up  while  I  take 
the  eggs  away.  You  see,  she  requires  to  be  held 
firmly,  and  my  hands  are  not  quite  equal  to  the 
occasion,"  —  holding  out  two  very  pretty,  but 
ineffectual-looking  palms,  which  Jack  longed  to 


66  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

take  in  his,  but  saw  that  Madge  was  extremely 
in  earnest  over  her  work,  and  that  he  should  re- 
ceive no  attention  till  "  Whitey's "  affairs  were 
settled. 

"  You  are  sure  you  are  not  afraid  ?  You  need 
not  laugh,  for  an  angry  hen  really  requires  care- 
ful handling." 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  laughing,  for  I  was 
just  thinking  she  looked  very  unpleasantly  like 
fighting ;  indeed,  I  should  like  it  better  if  you 
would  speak  of  her  as  a  griffin  ;  she  looks  fierce 
enough,  and  it  would  be  more  to  my  credit  if  the 
story  of  my  bravery  should  ever  be  told." 

"  How  well  it  would  sound  —  '  With  supernat- 
ural courage  he  had  seized  the  griffin  by  her  tail- 
feathers,  and  '  —  Take  care  ;  the  story  will  have 
a  dismal  ending  if  you  are  not  more  cautious.  A 
dozen  eggs,  I  declare  !  There  now,  you  may  put 
her  back,  and  to-morrow  she  shall  have  a  practi- 
cal lesson  on  obedience." 

"  Why  have  you  never  brought  me  here  be- 
fore ? "  Dr.  Rowland  said  ;  "  those  arches  are 
quite  fine  in  the  twilight  dimness  above  there." 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  favorite  place  of  ours  ;  and  here," 
she  said,  leading  him  to  the  other  side,  "Helen 
and  Rachel  and  I  have  spent  many  a  rainy  after- 
noon. Cows  are  supposed  to  object  to  having 
their  food  trifled  with,  so  father  used  to  let  us  take 
this  end,  and  have  our  special  mow  for  making 


AFTER  THE  STEED  WAS  STOLEN.      6/ 

nests,  and  playing  dolls.  Rachel  and  I,  even 
now,  often  sit  up  here  on  the  hay,  on  early  spring 
afternoons,  when  it  is  still  chilly  outside  ;  for  the 
sun  comes  through  this  little  window.  See,  you 
can  imagine  how  lovely  it  is  in  apple-blossom 
time,  with  that  long  slope  to  the  river." 

It  was  very  lovely  just  then,  with  the  red  glow 
of  the  sunset  still  over  all  —  the  lines  of  the  apple- 
trees,  as  they  looked  down  upon  them,  ranged  in 
green  mounds  with  grassy  aisles  between  ;  and  in 
the  low  ground  beyond,  where  the  river  wound, 
a  few  scarlet  and  yellow  maples  mingled  with  the 
willows.  The  window  was  so  low  that  they  were 
obliged  to  seat  themselves  on  the  hay  to  look  at 
the  view ;  but  as  Madge  turned  to  Dr.  Rowland 
with  some  playful  remembrance  of  her  childish 
days,  there  was  an  expression  on  his  face  which 
checked  her.  Silence  would  seem  to  be  the  easi- 
est course  under  embarrassment ;  but,  on  the 
contrary,  the  more  difficult  it  is  to  say  the  right 
thing,  the  more  bent  one's  mind  seems  to  be  on 
suggesting  the  wrong  one  ;  and  Madge  sat  in 
what  was,  for  her,  unusual  silence,  feeling  as  if 
there  were  no  subject  she  could  bring  up  which 
would  not  lead  to  the  events  of  yesterday  ;  and 
that,  she  felt,  would  be  dangerous  ground. 

Jack  was  sitting,  elbows  on  knees,  gazing  out 
of  the  window  in  a  dreamy  way,  and  presently 
said,  without  looking  at  her  : 


68  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET 

"  And  do  you  think  an  Augusf  picnic  as  pleas- 
ant as  one  in  June  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  that  all  picnics  are  not  pleasant, 
even  in  June.  That  day  at  Cedar  Hill  was  par- 
ticularly delightful ;  it  was  so  early  in  the  season 
that  the  woods  were  in  their  first  freshness,  and 
I  suppose  we  all  had  something  of  the  same  feel- 
ing about  us ;  and  then  yesterday  there  were 
strangers,  and  I  think  we  were  all  trying  a  little 
hard  to  entertain  each  other." 

"  And  it  seemed  to  be  a  successful  effort,"  he 
said  with  a  little  laugh,  not  quite  so  pleasant  a 
one  as  was  usual  to  him. 

"  Oh,  I  hope  so.  Mrs.  Lee  told  us  that  if  the 
strangers  of  the  party  enjoyed  themselves,  she 
did  not  care  about  us  ;  that  is  to  say,  for  her  own 
children,  and  for  me,  and  of  course  she  included 
you.  She  said  that  there  would  still  be  lovely 
weather  for  some  of  our  long  days  in  the  woods, 
with  only  our  two  households.  That  was  the 
reason  our  June  day  was  so  lovely,  —  it  was  like 
old  times." 

"  I  wish  I  had  had  a  share  in  the  old  times,  for 
I  should  have  had  more  happy  days  to  remember, 
and  I  fear  I  have  had  my  last  one  here  for  a  long 
while."  Then,  very  abruptly,  he  said  :  "  I  must 
tell  you  why  I  have  been  so  detestably  blue  and 
cross  for  the  last  few  days  —  my  Hartfield  pleas- 
ures are  over,  and  I  have  come  to  say  good-b;  e 
to  you." 


AFTER  THE  STEED  WAS  STOLEN.      69 

A  basket  of  eggs  is  an  awkward  thing  to  hold 
with  a  trembling  hand,  and  Madge  deposited  hers 
on  the  floor,  clearing  her  throat  gently  to  make 
sure  that  her  voice  could  be  depended  on,  before 
she  answered  with  exactly  the  proper  amount  of 
friendly  interest,  as  she  flattered  herself. 

"  You  are  going  to  begin  your  work  in  New 
York,  then,  sooner  than  you  had  expected  ?  but 
I  hope  you  will  come  back  to  see  us  before  the 
autumn  is  quite  over." 

"  I  shall  see  you  again  before  that ;  but  it  will 
be  to  say  good-bye  for  a  still  longer  time.  The 
fact  is,  I  have  had  a  tremendous  uprooting  of  my 
plans  in  the  last  few  days.  My  father  is  ill,  and 
I  must  join  him  in  Europe.  I  hope  it  may  end 
in  our  both  returning  together  ;  but  for  the  pres- 
ent I  must  give  up  everything,  and  it  is  a  great 
disappointment." 

He  was  more  miserable  after  he  had  spoken 
than  before.  Madge  seemed  to  be  taking  his  an- 
nouncement even  more  quietly  than  he  had  ex- 
pected, without  the  expression  of  regret,  which 
surely  she  might  have  shown  at  parting,  if  only 
from  a  summer's  friend.  There  she  sat,  looking, 
so  far  as  he  could  see,  quite  placid,  and  show- 
ing less  interest  than  he  had  seen  her  take  in 
giving  up  an  afternoon's  amusement,  her  eyes 
cast  downward,  and  apparently  quite  occupied  in 
watching  an  arrangement  of  straws  on  the  floor, 


7O  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

which  she  was  making  with  her  foot.  He  could 
have  had  it  in  his  heart  to  take  her  by  the  arm 
and  shake  her  out  of  her  composure,  —  anything 
rather  than  to  sit  still  and  bear  her  unsympa- 
thizing  silence. 

Poor  little  Madge  !  with  her  heart  throbbing  so 
that  it  was  almost  pain,  and  the  hands  clasped 
upon  her  knee,  growing  cold  with  the  effort  she 
was  making  to  show  no  sign  ;  for  to  her  the 
announcement  of  his  departure  was  at  that  mo- 
ment of  little  matter,  compared  with  the  shock 
of  finding  that  it  could  move  her  so  deeply. 
Half  an  hour  ago,  she  had  been  counting  up  the 
weeks  left  before  the  Lees  would  have  made 
their  November  flitting  to  New  York,  and  think- 
ing how  much  pleasure  there  still  was  before  her, 
with  the  hope,  too,  that  this  year  her  father  and 
mother  might  be  persuaded  into  letting  her  make 
the  wished  for  winter  visit  to  Helen  ;  and  now 
she  could  not  understand  her  own  misery,  and 
was  so  absorbed  with  her  fear  lest  she  should 
betray  herself  by  look  or  word,  that  she  had  little 
thought  as  to  any  pain  she  was  causing  by  the 
quiet  tone  in  which  she  said : 

"  You  must  be  very  sorry  to  give  up  all  your 
winter  arrangements  ;  but  I*  hope  your  father  is 
not  seriously  ill." 

He  looked  at  her  again.  What  folly  to  sup- 
pose that  a  girl  who  cared  for  him  could  feel  no 


AFTER  THE  STEED  WAS  STOLEN.       /I 

more  interest  in  his  affairs  than  this  !  Possibly, 
when  it  came  to  the  time  for  his  final  leave-taking, 
she  might  find  that  she  felt  more  for  him  than  she 
herself  knew  ;  but  this  was  no  time  to  speak. 

"  He  is  not  very  ill,  I  think  ;  but  he  needs  me, 
for  I  am  all  that  he  has.  In  fact,"  said  Jack,  start- 
ing up  from  his  seat,  "  I  find  this  saying  '  good- 
bye '  so  detestable,  that  I  am  almost  glad  to  think 
there  are  so  few  chances,  when  I  get  across  the 
water,  of  finding  any  one  beside  my  father,  who 
cares  whether  I  come  and  go  or  not." 

Madge  would  not  see  the  hand  which  he  put 
out  to  help  her  to  rise,  and  waited  till  she  found 
herself  standing  in  the  dim  light,  under  the  slop- 
ing roof,  before  she  said  : 

"  It  has  been  such  a  pleasant  summer  that  we 
shall  all  miss  you ;  it  must  be  a  great  disappoint- 
ment to  Helen." 

"  I  think  Helen  will  be  sorry,"  he  answered,  in 
an  almost  bitter  tone,  which  made  her  feel  that  it 
was  useless,  for  this  evening  at  least,  to  attempt 
to  express  even  as  much  regret  as  he  had  a  right 
to  expect. 

Without  speaking,  they  crossed  the  green  to  the 
house.  The  porch  was  vacant,  for  it  was  growing 
dusk  ;  the  lamp  was  lighted,  and  the  curtains 
drawn,  and  Madge  would  gladly  have  gone  in,  but 
he  paused,  and,  taking  both  her  hands  in  his,  said  : 

"  I  shall  see  you  again  before  I  sail,  but  I  feel 


72  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

as  if  to-night  I  were  saying  good-bye  to  the  hap- 
piest summer  of  my  life." 

Why  would  he  not  go,  that  she  might  be  alone, 
or  escape  to  Rachel,  her  other  self,  who  would 
comfort  her  tears  without  asking  what  caused 
them  ?  But  there  he  stayed,  gazing  at  her — think- 
ing all  the  while  that  he  might  possibly  have  seen 
her  looking  prettier  than  at  that  moment,  but 
never  so  lovable  and  earnest,  so  like  the  woman 
he  could  wish  to  make  his  wife. 

She  tried  to  answer  cheerfully  : 

"  Why  not  hope  that  you  have  as  happy  sum- 
mers to  come  ?  Not  exactly  like  this,  perhaps, 
but  you  have  certainly  every  chance  of  making 
your  life  as  agreeable  as  you  can  wish." 

"  I  know  —  plenty  of  men  would  be  thankful 
to  lead  just  the  life  to  which  I  am  going  ;  but 
what  is  the  good  of  it  to  me,  when  I  have  set  my 
whole  Tieart  on  something  else  ?  I  shall  make  the 
best  of  it  by-and-by,  but  just  now  it's  very  hard." 

If  she  could  have  spoken,  she  would  have  told 
him  that  he  might  comfort  himself  with  remem- 
bering that  a  Hartfield  winter  was  dull  enough, 
whatever  the  summers  might  be  ;  but  she  had 
come  to  the  end  of  her  tether,  and  could  not  have 
uttered  another  word  without  a  sob. 
m  He  pressed  her  hand  in  his  —  was  gone ;  but 
had  taken  only  a  few  steps  from  her  when  he 
turned  and  came  back,  saying,  impetuously,  "  It 


AFTER  THE  STEED  WAS  STOLEN.       73 

is  of  no  use  ;  I  cannot  go  without  speaking  to 
you,  though  you  give  me  no  encouragement." 

She  leaned  against  the  porch,  with  her  face 
turned  from  him,  and  as  he  laid  his  hand  upon 
her  arm  in  his  earnestness,  he  could  feel  her 
tremble. 

"  I  came  to-night,  Madge,  thinking  that  I  should 
tell  you  how  dearly  I  loved  you.  But  I  see  —  you 
have  never  thought  of  me  as  a  lover  at  all ;  but  I 
think  I  may  ask  this  much  :  that  while  I  am  away 
you  will  try  if  it  is  not  possible  that  you  could 
learn  to  care  for  me,  and  before  I  sail  give  me  a 
hope  to  take  with  me." 

The  words  that  came  were  so  low  that  he  bent 
his  head  to  hear  them. 

"  I  can  say  as  much  as  that ;  but,  indeed,  I  did 
not  know  it  till  now.  I  am  very  sorry  to  part  with 
you." 

Rachel  was  no  longer  needed  as  a  comforter, 
for  his  arm  was  round  her,  and  his  words  of  happy 
love  were  all  she  cared  to  hear. 

There  was  but  a  short  time  for  the  few  words* 
which  were  all  that  were  needed,  to  express  their 
mutual  relief  at  understanding  one  another,  when 
the  sound  of  Mr.  Anderson's  wagon-wheels  re- 
turning from  the  village  interrupted  them. 

Madge  was  not  sorry  that  he  refused  to  go  in 
with  her,  for  she  longed  to  be  alone  with  Rachel 
now,  as,  much  as  she  had  a  short  time  before. 


74  FROM    MADGE   TO    MARGARET! 

Rachel's  sympathy  was  needed  to  make  her  own 
happiness  seem  real ;  and  Jack  would  come  in  the 
morning,  he  said,  to  break  the  news,  and  make  his 
peace. 

"  Your  mother  may  ask  what  she  has  ever  done 
to  me,  that  I  should  rob  her  so  cruelly,  and  I  am 
afraid  that  only  half  my  task  is  done  yet." 

Madge  would  take  no  doubtful  view.  Rachel 
would  help  them,  —  would  make  her  father  and 
mother  feel  it  was  the  happiest  thing  in  the  world  ; 
and  they  had  always  liked  him. 

Rachel  might  grieve  that  she  should  no  longer 
have  the  exclusive  right  to  Madge's  confidence  ; 
but  all  such  regrets  must  now  be  laid  aside  till  the 
time  when  she  should  have  no  one  but  herself  to 
think  about. 

To  her  mother  and  father  it  was  a  shock,  at  first, 
to  feel  that  their  child  was  in  a  measure  to  be 
removed  from  their  own  sphere  of  life ;  but  to 
Madge  they  showed  only  their  sympathy  in  her 
happiness,  and  it  was  impossible  not  to  respond 
heartily  to  Jack,  when  he  evidently  felt  himself 
the  luckiest  fellow  in  the  world,  and  so  fully  ap- 
preciated the  sacrifice  he  asked  of  them. 


THE    WEDDING. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE      WEDDING. 

MRS.  LEE  appeared  the  next  morning  full  of 
interest,  and  with  so  much  to  tell  of  Jack's  high 
character  as  a  man,  and  pleasant  home  qualities, 
that,  though  the  mother  came  forth  from  the  long 
closeting  with  rather  tearful  eyes,  she  could  say 
that  she  was  heartily  grateful  for  Madge's  hap- 
piness. 

Jack  did  not  feel  himself  to  be  quite  such  a 
robber,  since  Madge  was  to  be  left  at  home  for 
some  months  —  he  carrying  out  his  plan  of  sailing 
in  a  month  or  two  for  Europe,  but  feeling  quite 
sure  that  he  could  arrange  matters  to  return  in 
the  spring  for  their  marriage. 

It  was,  after  all,  a  trying  day  at  the  farm-house, 
everybody  feeling  so  much  for  everybody  else  ;  and 
at  twilight  the  father  and  mother  were  thankful  to 
find  themselves  sitting  side  by  side  in  the  porch ; 
Madge  and  Dr.  Rowland  having  gone  off  for  a 
walk  to  Sugar-bowl  Pond.  If  Rachel  were  crying 
quietly  by  her  window  up-stairs,  no  one  would  be 
the  wiser  when  she  came  down,  cheery  and  pleas- 


76  FROM    MADGE    TO   MARGARET. 

ant,  to  light  the  lamp,  and  read  the  newspaper  to 
her  father. 

"  Well,  Hester,"  Mr.  Anderson  said,  patting  the 
hand  which  lay  on  the  arm  of  the  chair,  placed  by 
the  side  of  his  own  ;  "  we've  had  rather  a  hard 
day's  work  of  it,  my  dear.  I  think  giving  away  a 
daughter 's  a  good  bit  worse  than  making  an  offer 
yourself;  for  I  mind  the  day  after  you  said  you'd 
have  me,  — it  was  haying  time,  —  and  I  should 
like  to  have  mowed  straight  from  here  to  Boston, 
just  to  quiet  me  down  ;  but  to-night  I  declare  I 
ache  in  every  bone.  Well,  well,  it's,  the  beginning 
of  the  end,  I  suppose." 

"  Joseph,"  said  the  wife's  gentle  voice,  but  with  a 
sound  of  tears  in  it,  "  I've  thought  of  this  happi- 
ness before  now.  Women  do  plan  over  such  foolish 
things,  you  know ;  but  I've  always  said  to  myself 
that  if  one  of  my  girls  could  have  a  husband  to 
love,  and  to  love  her,  and  be  what  you've  been  to 
me,  I'd  be  only  too  thankful  to  sit  down  at  home 
alone,  and  think  how  happy  she  was.  You  see, 
dear,  we  didn't  either  of  us  have  father  or  mother 
to  say  good-bye  to  ;  hut  I've  thought,  when  I've 
heard  parents  bewailing  their  children  leaving 
them  as  if  they'd  a  right  to  them  body  and  soul, 
that  I  would  have  left  everything,  and  gone  to  the 
world's  end  sooner  than  be  parted  from  you. 
We've  a  happy  old  age  before  us,  please  God,  and 
we  will  let  our  children  have  their  young  days  all 
to  themselves." 


THE    WEDDING.  77 

"  That's  right,  dear ;  keep  me  up  to  the  mark 
with  your  good  words,  and  I'll  keep  my  old 
self  out  of  the  way,  and  only  think  of  the  young 
ones,  and  how  happy  they're  going  to  be.  Why, 
there  was  I  ploughing  this  morning,  and  couldn't 
tell  whether  it  was  the  oxen  or  I  wouldn't  go 
straight,  and  the  furrows  crooked  enough  to  make 
you  squint,  —  all  because  my  eyes  kept  filling  up 
to  think  that  my  girl  was  going  to  marry  as  nice 
a  young  fellow  as  ever  lived,  with  brains  and  good 
principles,  and  plenty  of  everything  to  make  her 
comfortable."  But  presently  he  said,  "  Do  you 
know  how  David  took  Madge's  news  ? " 

"  It's  not  so  very  easy  to  know  what  David 
thinks  ;  he's  not  one  to  say  much.  Rachel  found 
a  chance  to  tell  him  before  he  went  off,  and  I  saw 
him  walking  up  and  down  the  currant  walk  after- 
wards, with  his  shoulders  up  and  his  head  bent 
down,  as  he  does  when  he  is  planning  some  of 
his  new  contrivances ;  but  he  has  not  been  at 
home  since." ' 

"  Do  you  know,  Hester,  I  haVe  had  my  plans 
too.  I  used  to  think  how  pleased  I  should  be  if 
he  would  fancy  our  little  girl,  and  sometimes  I 
thought  he  did  ;  but  I  suppose  she  never  had 
any  notion  of  him.  She  might  have  done  worse, 
though." 

"  Seeing  too  much  of  a  man  is  sometimes  more 
against  a  girl  caring  for  him  than  if  they  met 


78  FROM    MADGE  TO   MARGARET. 

ever  so  little.  Madge  has  always  been  so  used 
to  David  that  there  never  was  a  time  when  she 
could  begin  to  fall  in  love  with  him.  And  you 
need  not  regret  it.  Our  darling  is  a  little  wilful, 
and^needs  a  good  firm  hand  to  lead  her;  and 
David  has  always  given  way  to  her  ever  since 
she  was  a  baby,  and  would  to  the  end  of  the 
chapter." 

"I  dare  say  you're  right,  only  if  they  could 
have  married,  I  think  I  should  have  loved  the 
old  place  all  the  better  to  know  that  it  would  have 
been  the  Anderson  farm  after  we  were  gone, 
and  another  generation  growing  up  on  it.  If  it 
had  pleased  the  Lord  to  let  our  own  little  fellow 
stay  and  try  what  this  world  was  like  —  there, 
there,  dear,  I'm  not  repining  ;  but  it's  nature  to 
wish  our  own  to  come  after  us,  and  have  the  using 
of  what  we've  set  so  much  Jsy.  As  to  David,  I 
don't  know,  after  all,  if  he  could  have  tied  him- 
self to  the  farm,  though  the  old  house  might 
have  always  been  a  home  to  him.  I  begin  to 
think  we  shall  Be  proud  of  David  one  of  these 
days  ;  for  they  tell  me  he's  amazing  clever  in  some 
of  his  inventions.  Mr.  Norcross  told  me,  last 
night,  that  they  think  a  deal  of  him  at  the  factory, 
and  there's  some  talk  of  his  having  a  patent  for 
this  new  idea  of  his  that  you've  seen  him  working 
at  early  and  late." 

David  Anderson  would  have  been  surprised  to 


THE    WEDDING.  79 

know  that  there  was  any  question  as  to  how  he 
would  take  the  news  of  Madge's  engagement. 
How  could  he  take  it  but  in  one  way  ?  —  what  was 
for  her  happiness.  And  he  believed  that  this 
would  be.  As  he  walked  up  and  down  the  cur- 
rant walk  he  was  thinking  that  he  liked  that 
young  doctor  exceedingly,  shrewd  fellow  as  ever 
was.  How  quickly  he  took  the  idea  of  that  new 
wheel  of  his  at  the  factory.  Tender-hearted,  too  ; 
there  weren't  many  who'd  have  taken  the  interest 
in  an  animal  that  didn't  belong  to  them  that  he 
did,  the  night  that  he  sat  up  with  the  black  horse, 
trying  everything  that  could  be  done  to  spare  the 
creature's  suffering  —  saved  his  life,  when  all  the 
old  hands  said  he  might  as  well  be  shot,  first  as 
last. 

And  then  David's  head  was  bent  a  little  lower 
as  he  thought  of  what  his  own  loss  was  to  be. 
Lately,  some  fancies  had  been  forming  in  his 
brain  (he  would  have  been  confounded  if  he  could 
have  thought  that  any  one  would  have  suspected 
him  of  such  boldness)  ;  but  since  Mr.  Norcross 
had  told  him  that  his  improvements  on  some  of 
the  machinery  at  the  factory  where  he  had  been 
foreman  for  the  last  two  years,  and  which  had 
been  the  occupation  of  his  leisure  hours,  were 
likely  to  lead  to  the  starting  on  a  prosperous  ca- 
reer, he  had  had  visions  of  a  home  of  his  own, 
and  had  thought  what  a  pleasant  thing  it  must  be 


So  FROM    MADGE   TO    MARGARET. 

for  a  man  to  feel  that  he  had  a  certainty  of  com- 
fort and  prosperity  to  offer  the  woman  he  loved. 
They  were  only  visions.  If  Madge  learned  to 
care  for  this  comparative  stranger  in  one  summer, 
she  never  could  have  given  a  thought  of  the  kind 
to  him  ;  and  how  glad  he  was  that  he  had  let  her 
have  no  hint  of  what  would  have  disturbed  his 
brotherly  relations  to  her.  He  believed  that 
Madge  did  feel  to  him  like  a  dear  sister,  and  he 
half  wished  —  it  showed  what  a  selfish  fellow  he 
was,  too,  to  have  such  a  thought  —  that  she  was 
not  going  to  be  quite  so  well  off,  so  that  his 
money,  if  he  ever  had  any,  might  be  of  use  to  her. 

Jack  went  off  to  New  York  the  next  day,  and 
Madge  led  a  felicitous  life,  receiving  letters  from 
him  daily,  and  a  flying  visit  every  now  and  then  ; 
for  he  was  very  busy  accomplishing  all  that  he 
wished,  that  he  might  have  a  week  or  two  at 
Hartfield,  clear  of  all  business,  before  he  sailed. 

But  one  day  he  appeared  with  a  face  of  care 
and  trouble.  Mrs.  Lee  dropped  her  work  and 
looked  at  him  in  consternation. 

"  Have  you  bad  news,  Jack  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  don't  know  ;  tell  me  what  to  answer 
to  this, "  —  handing  her  a  letter  received  from  his 
father  the  day  before.  It  was  written  in  answer 
to  Jack's  announcing  his  engagement. 

Mr.  Howland  wrote  that  nothing  could  give 
him  greater  pleasure  than  to  hear  that  his  son 


THE    WEDDING.  8 1 

was  to  be  happily  married,  and  to  a  young  lady 
receiving  the  approval  of  his  mother's  family.  So 
far  from  objecting,  he  only  begged  that  Jack 
would  be  married  with  as  little  delay  as  possible, 
and  bring  his  wife  to  receive  a  father's  blessing 
before  he  died.  He  was  very  ill,  could  live  but  a 
short  time,  and  it  would  cheer  the  last  hours  of  a 
sad  life  to  enjoy  the  delight  of  having  a  daughter, 
a  happiness  he  had  so  long  coveted. 

Mrs.  Lee  read  and  pondered.  She  could  not  in 
her  heart  think  that  there  was  any  occasion  for 
this  haste ;  but  still,  Jack  evidently  believed  in 
his  father's  having  grown  worse. 

"  You  see,  Aunt  Fanny,  if  my  father  is  correct 
in  the  details  of  his  symptoms,  he  is  very  ill  ;  and 
if  I  am  to  go  alone,  I  must  start  immediately. 
To  accomplish  my  marriage  as  he  wishes,  of 
course  I  should  be  obliged  to  delay  a  little  ;  but 
how  can  I  have  the  face  to  go  down  and  ask  the 
Andersons  to  let  me  carry  off  their  child  within  a 
fortnight  ?  Now  that  the  idea  of  taking  her  with 
me  is  suggested,  I  feel  as  if  it  would  be  too  hard 
to  go  alone  ;  and  I  declare  I  don't  know  in  what 
words  to  put  my  request.  Perhaps  Madge  her- 
self will  say  it  is  impossible." 

"  Your  best  way,  I  think,  will  be  to  take  the 
letter  to  them,  ask  them  to  read  it,  and  give  you 
their  answer." 

The  advice  was  taken  ;  and  leaving  the  letter 


82  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

with  the  father  and  mother,  Jack  went  off  with 
Madge  to  await  his  sentence. 

It  seemed  at  first  impossible  to  consent,  and 
on  further  thought  as  impossible  to  refuse.  It  was 
only  for  their  own  sake  that  they  could  do  so,  for 
Madge,  of  course,  would  easily  overcome  any  re- 
luctance, if  assured  that  they  were  willing.  She 
would  have  much  to  enjoy ;  would  return,  proba- 
bly, before  many  months  were  over.  If  it  were 
to  be  done,  the  young  people  should  not  think 
that  the  older  ones  were  sacrificing  their  hap- 
piness, and  the  letter  was  returned  to  Jack's 
hands,  with  a  cheerful  acquiescence  beyond  his 
utmost  hope.  He  had  been  made  to  feel  by  his 
father,  that  youth  was  to  be  worn  with  an  apology 
for  treading  so  closely  upon  the  heels  of  old  age. 

The  days  passed  rapidly  enough,  though  Jack 
had  insisted  that  not  one  moment  should  be 
wasted  on  anything  but  the  necessary  prepara- 
tions for  the  voyage,  as  Madge  could  fit  herself 
out  with  everything  necessary  as  soon  as  she 
arrived  in  Paris. 

Mrs.  Anderson  felt  very  thankful  for  the  fore- 
thought which  had  always  kept  the  old-fashioned 
chest  of  drawers,  belonging  to  her  own  mother, 
filled  with  an  indefinite  quantity  of  white  gar- 
ments, in  case  of —  Well,  no  one  knew  what 
emergency  in  this  world  would  ever  require  such 
a  number  of  dozens  of  everything ;  but  Mrs.  An- 


THE    WEDDING.  83 

derson  had  sewed  her  long  seams  of  exquisitely 
even  stitches,  as  some  women  go  on  filling  up 
patterns  of  worsted  work  all  their  days.  And  now 
it  was  a  comfort  that,  though  Dr.  Rowland  might 
he  allowed  to  buy  what  dresses  he  pleased  for  his 
wife,  everything  else  in  her  wardrobe  would  re- 
mind her  of  home.  She  hoped  the  dear  child 
would  not  be  homesick  when  she  looked  at  moth- 
er's button-holes. 

The  wedding  morning  came  —  a  soft,  beautiful 
Indian-summer  day.  They  were  to  be  married 
at  home ;  and  the  sisters  and  Helen  Lee  had 
made  the  pleasant  farmhouse  parlor  bright  with 
branches  of  autumn  leaves,  and  the  last  chrys- 
anthemums and  asters  from  Madge's  garden. 

When  a  party  of  people  are  each  anxious  to 
spare  the  other  as  much  as  possible,  it  tends 
wonderfully  to  self-control ;  and  Jack  had  done 
his  best  in  the  last  few  weeks  to  remove  all 
restraint  in  his  intercourse  with  the  Anderson 
family,  and  make  the  mother  and  father  feel  that 
the  man  to  whom  they  were  about  to  intrust 
their  child  was  to  be  to  them  really  like  a  son  of 
their  own. 

So  when  the  family  gathered  together  for  the 
marriage  service,  with  only  the  Lees,  whose  love 
was  the  same  for  both  the  young  people,  the  only 
feeling  was  that  of  pure  gratitude  for  the  happi- 
ness of  one  so  dear  to  them  all. 


84  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

Madge,  standing  there  in  her  white  muslin 
dress,  hitherto  kept  sacred  to  Sunday  wear,  —  the 
dress  which  was  to  be  laid  away  in  lavender,  and 
smoothed  by  the  mother's  hand  as  lovingly  as  if 
it  were  Madge  herself,  —  could  not  come  back  to 
them  quite  the  same  child  who  had  been  the  de- 
light of  their  lives  ;  but  how  much  was  to  be 
added  to  hers ! 

Madge's  were  the  only  tears  shed  when  it 
came  to  the  last  moment,  and  she  was  to  drive 
from  the  door  "all  by  herself  and  away  from 
them  all,"  as  she  said. 

"  My  darling,  do  you  call  my  son  Jack  no- 
body ?  "  her  father  said,  with  his  parting  kiss. 


THE   COMING   ON    OF   NIGHTFALL.  85 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    COMING    ON    OF    NIGHTFALL. 

THE  tender  sorrow  of  that  autumn  day  could 
not,  with  all  their  unselfishness,  but  have  deep- 
ened into  grief,  had  they  all  known  how  long  the 
separation  was  to  be. 

On  their  arrival  in  Paris,  Jack  found  his  father 
seriously  ill ;  but  the  constant  watchfulness  of  his 
son,  and  the  happy  change  from  his  solitary  life, 
produced  so  favorable  an  effect  upon  some  of  the 
more  painful  symptoms  of  his  disease,  that  the 
winter  was  far  more  cheerful  than  any  one  had 
anticipated. 

Madge  wrote  that  her  reception  by  her  father- 
in-law  had  been  all  that  they  could  desire  for  her  ; 
and  Jack  added  accounts  of  his  father's  delight  in 
the  presence  'of  her  beauty  and  grace  in  his  sick- 
room, and  of  the  interest  he  found  in  training 
her  in  the  ways  of  her  new  life.  Indeed  the 
old  man  was  softening  very  much  under  this  new 
experience  with  his  lovely  young  daughter,  and 
bearing  his  suffering  with  a  courage  which  sur- 
prised, as  much  as  it  endeared  him  to,  his  son. 


86  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

The  long,  journal-like  letters  were  the  delight 
of  the  winter  evenings  in  the  farm-house.  Mr. 
Anderson,  a  reader  always,  had  been  fond  of 
travels  and  voyages,  but  they  were  of  the  improv- 
ing and  statistical  kind  ;  and  to  hear  from  his 
own  little  Madge  a  minute  account  of  the  life  in 
a  foreign  city  was  like  a  romance.  Mrs.  Lee 
supplied  them  with  all  sorts  of  reading  to  supple- 
ment the  letters,  so  that  he  told  his  wife  he 
thought  they  were  very  lucky  to  have  their  travel- 
ling done  by  proxy,  and  save  all  the  wear  and  tear 
of  their  old  bones. 

The  first  disappointment  came  in  June  ;  but  it 
was  accompanied  with  the  promise  of  a  great  hap- 
piness, when  Jack  wrote  that  he  thought  it  wiser 
that  Madge  s'hould  await  her  confinement  abroad. 
Of  course,  under  such  circumstances  there  was 
no  reason  for  regret,  or  for  any  feeling  except  the 
natural  anxieties. 

Then  came  the  birth  of  their  little  boy,  with 
Jack's  pride  in  his  size  and  fine  proportions,  and 
Madge's  loving  message,  "  of  the  look  like  father, 
and  mother's  curls  and  brown  eyes ; "  and  after 
that  —  bad  news,  and  the  long  waiting  for  that 
terrible  telegram,  as  those,  kneeling  on  the  deck 
of  a  foundering  vessel,  wait  for  the  final  parting 
and  plunge  below. 

But  they  were  spared  this  pang,  and  Madge 
slowly  crept  back  to  life,  though  months  passed 


THE    COMING    ON    OF    NIGHTFALL.  8/ 

before  she  was  again  her  own  bright  self;  and 
when  the  time  came  that  they  might  at  last  have 
turned  their  faces  homeward,  it  was  no  longer 
possible  for  Mr.  Rowland  to  make  the  voyage. 
His  vitality  was  so  great  that  he  might  linger  as 
he  had  done,  no  one  could  say  for  how  long ;  but 
America  had  no  charm  for  him,  and  it  would  have 
been  cruel  to  subject  him  to  the  risk  of  greater 
suffering. 

They  had  been  gone  four  years,  —  was  it  to  be 
another  four  ?  Anything  seemed  possible  now, 
and  it  was  but  dismal  consolation  to  those  at 
home  to  know  how  the  exiles  were  wearying  to 
be  with  them  again. 

During  the  last  year  a  most  unexpected  sorrow 
had  come  to  the  farm-house  :  Rachel's  eyesight 
was  failing,  and  terrible  need  had  they  of  comfort 
in  this  affliction,  which  fell  so  heavily  on  them 
all.  A  trouble  of  the  eyes,  of  which  the  old  phy- 
sician of  Hartfield  had  warned  her  she  must  take 
great  heed,  had  been  much  aggravated  by  the 
care  of  her  father  during  an  illness  in  the  winter, 
—  a  short,  but  severe  attack,  —  leaving  no  time 
for  thought  of  herself  ;  and  Rachel  had  watched 
night  after  night,  only  too  thankful  to  be  able  to 
spare  her  mother.  But  when  all  fear  was  over, 
Rachel  found  that  to  pain  was  added  an  increas- 
ing dimness. 

The   Lees  were  in   Europe  this  year,  and  by 


88  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

the  time  that  it  was  decided  that  Rachel  must 
consult  an  experienced  oculist,  it  was  summer 
weather  ;  and  then  came  weeks  of  homesick  dis- 
comfort in  a  city  hotel.  The  physician  told  them, 
at  length,  that  their  longer  stay  at  present  would 
be  of  no  use  ;  they  must  be  very  thankful  that  he 
did  not  say  that  the  case  was  hopeless  (for  there 
were  many  such),  but  in  a  few  months  he  could 
decide. 

So  they  returned,  gladly  exchanging  the  dusty 
luxury  of  a  hotel-room  for  the  beautiful  nicety 
and  sweet  scents  of  the  country  home,  enjoyed  by 
them  now  as  never  before.  ,  The  summer  was 
tided  over  by  the  hope  the  physician  had  given 
them,  and  each  one,  for  the  sake  of  the  other, 
made  this  mean  the  most  that  was  possible,  till  at 
last  they  grew  to  believe  in  it. 

Still  hoping,  Rachel  made  use  of  what  little 
light  was  left  her  in  learning  to  find  her  way 
about  the  house  easily,  that  her  faltering  foot- 
steps might  not  make  so  constant  an  appeal  to 
her  father  and  mother ;  and  wonderful  deeds  of 
knitting  were  already  performed  by  her  busy 
hands. 

"  This  is  comfortable,"  Rachel  said,  one  Oc- 
tober afternoon,  as  Mrs.  Richards  came  in,  bring- 
ing an  atmosphere  of  cheerfulness  with  her,  "  for 
mother  has  just  driven  over  with  father  to  Mr. 
White's,  to  look  at  a  great  beauty  of  a  Jersey 


THE    COMING    ON    OF    NIGHTFALL.  89 

cow,  which  they  are  to  buy,  if  she  is  as  good  as 
she  is  handsome." 

"  Yes,  I  met  them  as  I  came  along,  and  told 
them  I  could  stay  a  while  ;  so  your  mother  can 
enjoy  her  ride,  for  it's  a  beautiful  bright  after- 
noon." 

"  I'm  glad  of  that.  I  think  mother  is  beginning 
to  understand  how  much  better  it  is  for  us  both 
that  we  should  not  be  so  entirely  dependent  on 
each  other.  She  brightens  herself  up  by  going 
out,  and  brings  back  something  to  me,  but  I 
know  it  seems  to  her  just  like  leaving  a  baby 
alone  in  its  cradle.  To-day,  dear  souls,  they  are 
both  a  little  down-hearted,  for  it  is  Madge's  wed- 
ding-day. Only  think,  Mrs.  Richards,  four  years  ! 
Madge's  baby  walking  and  talking,  and  we  never 
to  have  had  him  in  our  arms  yet !  " 

"  And  no  word  of  any  change  in  the  poor  old 
gentleman  ?  " 

"  None,  except  from  his  suffering  to  weakness  ; 
and  so  it  must  be  to  the  end,  Dr.  Howland 
writes." 

"  I  suppose  Madge  knows  the  state  of  things 
here  ;  you  don't  try  to  keep  your  trouble  from 
her,  do  you  ?  " 

"  You  know  that  mother  and  father  would  not 
speak  anything  but  the  truth,  even  to  save  their 
children  pain  ;  but  we  have  tried  to  tell  all  the 
facts  without  enlarging  on  them,  and  let  Madge 


90  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

take  a  hopeful  view  of  them  in  her- bright  way. 
Of  course  she  knows  of  our  Boston  visit,  and  it 
is  a  long  time  since  she  had  a  letter  from  me." 

"  I  suppose  it  wouldn't  be  possible  for  Madge 
to  come  home  now,  and  let  her  husband  follow 
when  it's  all  over  there." 

"Oh,  no  ;  I  don't  think  anything  would  justify 
our  asking  that,  except  a  case  of  life  and  death, 
when  Madge  would  want  to  come  for  her  own 
comfort." 

"  There  was  a  time,  a  while  ago,  when  I  was  in 
such  an  agony  for  the  sight  of  her  face,  that  I 
could  have  been  selfish  enough  to  have  asked  any 
sacrifice;  but  now  "—and  the  sigh  with  which 
she  spoke  was  almost  a  groan  — "  I  could  not 
see  her  if  she  came." 

Rachel  dropped  her  work  to  wipe  away  the  tear 
or  two  which  rolled  down  her  cheek,  and  Mrs. 
Richards  laid  her  hand  on  hers,  with  a  loving 
little  sound  of  sympathy,  such  as  one  would  make 
to  a  grieving  child. 

Rachel  responded  with  a  warm  pressure,  say- 
ing, "You  are  wishing  you  could  say  something 
to  comfort  me  ;  but  you  are  doing  more  than  you 
can  imagine  when  you  come  here  and  let  me  have 
the  comfort  of  giving  way  to  you.  Sometimes  I 
think  that  we  three  here  at  home  pay  the  penalty 
for  being  so  much  to  each  other,  by  one  taking 
the  sorrow  of  all  the  others.  It  is  rather  a  dis- 


THE    COMING    ON    OF    NIGHTFALL.  9! 

mal  little  sum  in  arithmetic  to  find  how  much  it 
would  all  come  to,"  she  said,  trying  to  smile 
through  her  tears. 

%"  It's  very  good  in  you,  Rachel,  to  tell  me  that 
I  comfort  you,  for  I  sometimes  feel  as  if  it  was 
only  I  who  got  all  the  good  of  coming  here,  and 
seeing  you  all  so  patient.  Some  people  seem  to 
think  that  they  can  offer  you  a  text  just  as  they 
want  you  to  take  their  medicine,  without  knowing 
whether  it's,  the  best  thing  for  you  or  not ;  but  I 
know  I'd  rather  take  the  lesson  my  heavenly  Fa- 
ther gives  me  to  learn,  and  puzzle  it  out  my  own 
way.  I  remember  the  afternoon  I  was  sitting  by 
my  little  Susie  ;  she  looked  so  sweet  lying  there 
in  her  white  gown,  and  her  posies  in  her  hand, 
just  as  if  she  was  going  to  Sunday  school,  that  I 
do  believe  I'd  forgotten  that  I  shouldn't  have 
her  any  more  ;  and  I  was  just  thinking  how  happy 
she  was,  safe  in  her  Saviour's  hands,  —  when  in 
came  Deacon  Johnson,  good-hearted  man  as  ever 
lived,  and  feeling  so  much  for  me  that  it  was 
running  out  of  his  eyes  ;  and  there  he  began  talk- 
ing about  the  great  white  throne  and  the  troops 
of  angels,  till  I  got  so  homesick  and  scared, 
thinking  of  Susie  in  all  that  crowd,  that  I  could 
have  screamed  right  out.  And  that  was  his  idea 
of  heaven,  and  he  thought  he  was  giving  me  ever 
so  much  help  ;  only  he  was  a  man,  and  liked  to 
imagine  something  great  and  solemn  ;  and  I  want- 


92  FROM    MADGE   TO    MARGARET. 

ed  to  think  of  my  little  darling  being  made  much 
of,  just  as  if  she  was  at  home.  So,  since  then, 
I've  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  make  people 
as  comfortable  as  I  knew  how  with  my  love  and 
my  nursing,  but  I'd  leave  the  teaching  to  the 

Lord." 

If  you  soothe  everyone  as  you  do  me,  by  just 
sitting  near  with  your  sympathy,  you  may  leave 
the  texts  to  be  spoken  by  some  one  else  with  a 
clear  conscience.  I  think,  when  one  is  in 
trouble,  that  it  is  the  nerves,  more  than  the  soul, 
that  want  ministering  to.  I  don't  mean  to  say 
that  I  am  unhappy  all  the  time,  by  any  means  ; 
but  days  come  when  it's  all  as  dark  in  my  mind 
as  outside,  and  then  it  is  very  trying  to  have  even 
the  kindest  person  in  the  world  come  and  per- 
suade me  to  feel  reconciled,  —  as  if  it  was  not  the 
struggle  of  my  life  to  be  reconciled,  when  I  dare 
trust  myself  to  think  of  what  I  have  lost." 

"  Now,  dear  child,  I  believe  there  you  make  a 
mistake,  to  keep  your  mind  in  a  turmoil  with  try- 
ing to  be  reconciled  —  to  what  ?  Why,  to  giving 
up  the  pleasure  of  seeing  this  world,  which  our 
Father  has  made  just  as  beautiful  as  ever  he 
could,  for  us  .to  look  at.  No  ;  I  think  it's  like 
telling  us  mothers  that  we  ought  to  be  perfectly 
willing  to  give  up  our  little  children  after  He  has 
filled  our  hearts  with  all  this  love  for  them,  so 
that  we  could  stand  the  worry  and  care  that 


THE  COMING  ON  OF  NIGHTFALL.      93 

comes  with  them.  I  love  my  God  all  the  better 
because  He's  got  the  care  of  them,  and  try  my 
best  to  be  good  enough  to  go  to  them  by  and  by  ; 
and  I  believe  that's  what  He  wants  me  to  feel, 
and  I  never  could  get  one  bit  nearer  to  it  while  I 
was  trying  to  make  myself  submissive,  right 
against  the  nature  He  gave  me.  I  am  preach- 
ing, after  all,  dear ;  but  I've  had  these  thoughts 
when  I've  been  through  some  pretty  dark  places, 
and  I  do  so  want  to  help  you." 

"And  you  have  helped  me,  dear  Mrs.  Richards. 
It  was  just  what  I  needed  this  afternoon  ;  for  I 
had  gone  down  to  the  depths.  I  shall  lay  it  all 
by  to  think  of  when  I  am  alone,  for  now  I  want 
to  show  you  something  pleasant.  If  you  will 
look  in  mother's  work-table  drawer,  you  will  find 
Madge's  last  letter.  I  make  every  one  read  her 
letters  to  me  till  I  know  them  almost  by  heart." 

One  of  these  letters  was  always  a  great  treat 
to  Mrs.  Richards,  who  seemed  to  feel  a  reflected 
honor  in  the  fact  that  Madge,  whom  she  had 
carried  in  her  arms,  should  be  leading  a  life  which 
was  to  her  "just  like  a  story-book,  and  I  would 
give  something  to  see  her  dear  little  mouth 
screwed  up  to  say  some  of  those  queer  foreign 
words.  I  'most  think  I  should  understand  a 
little  myself,  if  I  could  hear  her  do  a  few  of 
them." 

The  letter,  and  all  the  conversation  it  led  to, 


94 


FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 


made  the  afternoon   pass    so  quickly,  that  they 
started  at  the  sound  of  wheels. 

"  Dear  me  !  Why,  there's  your  mother  back 
again,  and  I  hadn't  the  first  idea  it  was  so  late. 
I  do  suppose  every  blessed  child  in  the  Richards 
family  is  standing  out  in  the  front  yard,  calling 
for  mother,  and  I  must  clip  it  home  just  as  fast 
as  ever  I  can." 

Mrs.  Anderson  came  in  from  her  drive,  looking 
very  bright,  and  as  she  spoke,  Rachel  said : 

"  Why,  mother,  there's  the  sound  of  a  letter  in 
your  roice  ;  has  another  come  so  soon  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear  ;  and  I  can't  think  it's  wrong  to  be 
happy,  for  even  Jack  says  he  was  thankful  when 
it  was  all  over  and  he  saw  his  father  at  rest." 

The  letter  was  written  the  very  day  that  Mr. 
Rowland's  death  —  so  long  expected  that  at 
last  it  took  everybody  by  surprise  —  had  set 
himself  and  them  free.  Nothing  but  the  neces- 
sary arrangements  would  detain  them,  and  there 
would  probably  be  time  for  but  one  letter  more, 
to  say  in  what  steamer  they  should  sail. 

The  days  passed  as  quickly  as  in  that  October 
four  years  ago.  The  mother  was  busy,  heart  and 
hands,  with  all  the  arrangements  for  the  comfort 
of  the  travellers,  who  were  to  come  to  Hartfield 
as  soon  as  they  landed. 

There  was  a  sunny  room  chosen  by  them  all  to 
be  little  Phil's  nursery,  close  to  his  mother's  ; 


THE    COMING    ON    OF    NIGHTFALL.  95 

while  one  of  the  prettiest  windows  in  the  house 
was  suddenly  discovered  to  have  been  wasting  its 
view  of  the  river  on  trunks  and  boxes,  which  must 
now  be  turned  out,  and  a  comfortable  little  study 
made  for  Dr.  Rowland. 

It  was  Rachel  who  planned  all  the  pretty 
effects  of  furniture,  curtains  and  pictures  ;  and  no 
one  would  have  thought,  when  she  said,  "  Hang 
these  Venice  photographs  where  the  light  will 
strike  among  the  arches,"  or,  "  Place  Dr.  How- 
land's  chair  and  desk  here,  where  he  can  look 
through  the  trees  to  the  river,"  —  that  it  was 
already  but  a  memory  to  her,  and  with  what  a 
pang  she  strove  to  bring  to.  her  mind  every  touch 
of  the  scene  so  soon  to  be  before  the  eyes  of  those 
she  loved. 

These  were  terribly  hard  days  for  Rachel,  — 
all  the  harder,  that  the  painful  emotions  they 
wrought  were  a  great  surprise  to  her. 

"  A  little  while  ago,"  she  thought  to  herself,  "  I 
should  have  said  that  all  my  sorrow  would  have 
disappeared  in  the  thought  that  I  should  hear 
the  sound  of  Madge's  voice  again  ;  and  now  I 
feel  as  if  I  never  had  known  before  what  I  have 
lost.  If  I  could  but  grow  used  to  it  all !  But  I 
wake  in  the  morning,  feeling  as  if  I  had  strength  for 
whatever  the  day  may  bring,  and  before  night  I 
have  gained  some  new  knowledge  of  how  I  can 
suffer.  If  this  is  to  be  always  so,  how  can  I 
ever  grow  calm  and  patient  ? " 


96  FROM    MADGE   TO    MARGARET. 

One  person  had  been  a  great  comfort  to  Ra- 
chel from  the  beginning  of  her  sorrow.  "  The 
best  of  Davids"  —  as  she  used  to  call  him  - 
gave  her  a  sense  of  being  quietly  cared  for  as 
by  no  one  else ;  for  at  times  she  was  oppressed 
even  by  the  intense  sympathy  with  which  her 
father  and  mother  watched  over  her,  adding  their 
suffering  to  hers. 

David's  words  were  few.  When  Madge  had 
taken  him  to  task  long  ago  for  being  so  quiet,  he 
would  answer : 

"  But,  dear,  why  should  I  speak  if  I  have 
nothing  to  say  ?" 

Madge  thought  the  house  would  be  very  dull 
if  she  stopped  talking  for  so  slight  a  reason  as 
that,  and  he  must  keep  on  as  she  did  till  he  was 
able  to  say  something  worth  hearing. 

David  had  gone  on  in  his  silent  way,  and  the 
four  years  had  made  a  great  change  in  him,  from 
the  serious  young  fellow  with  his  heavy,  slouch- 
ing figure,  to  a  man  whose  fine  head  and  face 
were  all  in  keeping  with  the  promise  of  his  intel- 
ligence. He  had  already  made  his  mark  among 
men,  and  his  patents  had  proved  so  successful 
that  he  was  now  part-owner  in  the  large  mill 
where  he  had  begun  as  workman. 

He  could  no  longer,  of  course,  make  the  farm 
his  constant  home  ;  but  the  tie  of  affection  was 
stronger  than  ever.  He  gave  the  old  people  the 


THE  COMING  ON  OF  NIGHTFALL.      9/ 

love  of  a  son  ;  and  when  Rachel  counted  up  the 
blessings  still  left  to  her,  among  the  foremost 
was  her  brother  David. 

He  was  to  go  to  New  York  to  meet  the  How- 
lands  on  their  arrival  —  a  great  comfort  to  Ra- 
chel, who  felt  that  it  might  spare  them  all  much 
pain,  that  Madge  should  be  able  to  talk  with 
some  one  from  home,  who  would  prepare  her 
more  than  any  writing  could  do  for  the  great 
change  in  her  sister. 

"  You  will  try  to  make  her  understand  every- 
thing as  tenderly  as  you  can,"  Rachel  said  to 
him  as  they  sat  together  the  evening  before  he 
went. 

"  Indeed  I  will,"  he  said  ;  "  but  she  knows  the 
worst,  doesn't  she  ?  " 

"  Mother  has  always  meant  to  be  perfectly 
truthful,  and  I  am  sure  she  has  been  ;  but  now 
that  we  are  face  to  face  with  the  reality,  I  am  so 
afraid  lest  we  may  not  have  prepared  Madge  as 
we  should  do.  Oh,  David,  it  is  of  myself  that  I 
am  afraid  ;  how  can  I  ever  bear  this  longing  to 
see  her  again  patiently  ?  and  I  shall  make  my 
sorrow  hers." 

As  she  sat  in  her  darkness,  the  grasp  of  his 
strong  hand  laid  over  hers  gave  her  the  sense  of 
protection  which  she  needed. 

"  My  dear,  it  is  a  tremendous  sorrow.  I  can't 
gainsay  that ;  and  I  suffer  for  you  so  that  I  don't 
7 


98  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

know  how  to  offer  you  any  comfort.  I  can  only 
give  you  a  brother's  love,  and  a  hand  which  shall 
serve  you  faithfully.  I  never  told  you,  Rachel, 
that  I  once  had  a  far-away  idea  that  I  might  be 
your  brother  in  earnest ;  I  see  now  that  it  never 
could  have  been,  and  I  believe  I  am  too  grave 
and  silent  a  man  ever  to  make  any  woman  care 
for  me  in  that  way,  —  and  so  I  have  very  often 
thought  that  my  life  was  going  to  be  a  lonely 
one  ;  but  if  I  could  know  that  I  had  a  sister  who 
would  really  depend  on  me,  it  would  seem  as  if 
there  were  something  worth  working  for." 

Rachel  had  no  voice  to  answer  ;  but  the  two 
frail  hands  tightened  about  his,  and  as  he  stooped 
to  kiss  her  cheek,  he  tried  to  laugh  away  his  un- 
usual expression  of  feeling. 

"  It's  a  bargain,  then,  Rachel,  and  you  and  I 
are  to  be  old  folks  together." 

The  day  had  come  ;  a  trying,  agitating  day  for 
all,  with  an  electric  current  running  through 
farm,  kitchen,  and  parlor. 

For  once  in  her  life,  Mrs.  Anderson,  whose  very 
presence  generally  suggested  peace,  moved  rest- 
lessly about  the  house.  Rachel  could  but  sit 
quietly  in  her  low  chair,  knitting  in  hand  :  but 
her  thoughts  kept  pace  with  her  mother's  feet 
Back  and  forth  they  went,  anxious  and  hoping, 
and  without  the  feeling  which  she  would  have 


THE  COMING  ON  OF  NIGHTFALL.      99 

had,  under  happier  circumstances,  that  all  doubts 
would  be  solved  in  the  presence  of  her  brother 
and  sister. 

And  of  what  was  she  doubtful  ?  Not  of  any 
serious  trouble  or  change,  but  only  of  what  mar- 
ried life  might  have  done  for  Madge. 

Had  she  gone  from  her  father's  home  directly 
to  that  of  a  husband  in  her  own  sphere  of  life, 
Rachel  even  then  would  have  felt  that  for  a 
young  undisciplined  nature  like  her  sister's  there 
was  much  to  learn  ;  what,  then,  might  be  the 
change  wrought  by  the  experiences  of  the  last 
four  years,  away  from  every  friend  and  early 
association  ? 

At  home,  there  had  never  been  any  restric- 
tion from  father  or  mother,  on  the  confidence 
between  the  sisters  ;  even  in  their  quiet  life 
there  had  arisen  occasions  for  sympathy  and  ad- 
vice from  the  elder  to  the  younger,  and  Rachel 
was  the  acknowledged  mentor.  But  that  sort  of 
intimacy  was  not  so  easy  in  a  general  family  cor- 
respondence, where  the  letters  were  of  too  great 
interest  to  all  not  to  be  shared.  Of  late  no  per- 
sonal communication  had  been  possible,  and 
Rachel  felt  as  if,  perhaps,  she  had  actually  now 
to  learn  to  know  her  sister. 

Madge's  face  was  a  tell-tale  one.  How  it  came 
before  her  at  that  moment !  The  tender  mouth, 


IOO       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

the  quick-changing  color,  and  blue  eyes  as  ready 
to  fill  with  tears  as  a  child's  at  any  reproof,  and 
to  sparkle  with  fun  before  the  tears  were  dry 
upon  her  cheeks  —  it  was  a  face  to  be  easily  read 
by  one  who  loved  her ;  but  alas  for  the  eyes 
which  might  never  again  rest  upon  it  I 


HARTFIELD     ONCE    MORE.  IOI 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HARTFIELD    ONCE    MORE. 

SLOWLY  the  hours  have  dragged  themselves 
along.  Every  last  touch  has  been  given  to  the 
rooms  the  travellers  are  to  occupy,  every  ar- 
rangement made  for  their  comfort  ;  and  now 
they  sit  waiting  for  the  sound  of  wheels.  At 
last  they  have  come  ! 

Father  and  mother  are  standing  in  the  porch. 
Rachel  waits  within.  She  has  begged  them  to 
leave  her,  and  let  Madge  come  to  her  first  by 
herself. 

"  Oh,  Rachel !  my  dear,  my  darling  !  How  can 
I  bear  it  for  you  ?  I  never  thought  it  could  be 
as  bad  as  this." 

It  was  Madge  whose  tears  fell  in  a  passionate 
rain,  while  she  knelt  clasping  her  arms  about 
Rachel,  who,  as  in  old  times,  with  cheek  laid 
closely  to  her  sister's,  soothed  her  with  loving 
words.  At  that  moment  sight  to  the  blind  girl 
would  have  been  as  nothing  to  the  peace  of  lis- 
tening to  that  longed-for  voice  ! 

Dr.  Howland  feared,  at  length,  that  the  agita- 


IO2       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

tion  might  be  too  great  ;  but  Mrs.  Anderson 
begged  him,  if  he  did  not  think  it  would  harm 
Madge,  to  let  them  have  their  way.  "  Rachel 
has  had  no  such  comfort  since  the  beginning  of 
her  affliction  as  this  sympathy  from  Madge." 

But  there  was  one  member  of  the  family  who 
was  not  to  be  kept  aloof.  Little  Phil,  catching 
sight  of  his  mother,  struggled  from  his  grand- 
father's arms,  and  came  running  to  her  side,  his 
own  lip  quivering  at  the  sight  of  her  tearful  face. 
The  mother's  arms  opened  to  bring  him  into 
the  group. 

"  Here  is  my  boy,  my  baby.  From  the  mo- 
ment he  was  born,  Rachel,  I  have  never  felt  as  if 
I  could  be  perfectly  happy  till  you  had  a  share  in 
him  ;  and  now  we  will  love  you  so  that  I  know  we 
can  comfort  you." 

The  first  agitation  over,  they  began  to  feel  the 
certainty  of  their  happiness. 

Phil  had  accepted  his  grandfather  at  once  as  a 
companion,  and  was  in  his  lap  ;  while  Madge, 
perched  on  the  arm  of  her  father's  chair, 
laughed,  and  talked  with  both,  and  the  old  man 
listened  with  immense  delight  to  the  little  fellow's 
chatter. 

"  Will  you  paint  me  a  picture  ? —  I  mean  with 
words,"  Rachel  said,  as  her  brother  came  to  sit 
by  her.  "  Remember  how  Madge  looked  the  last 
time  I  saw  her,  and  tell  me  if  there  is  any  change. 


HARTFJELD    ONCE    MORE.  IO3 

I  always  think  of  her  in  her  white  dress,  standing 
under  that  arch  of  scarlet  branches  which  you  and 
Helen  arranged  ;  does  she  look  older  than  she 
did  that  day  ? " 

Dr.  Rowland  paused  a  moment,  looking 
thoughtfully  at  his  wife ;  then  answered  slowly, 
trying  to  imagine  how  Rachel's  eyes  would  see 
her.  "  Not  older  in  any  way,  except  the  change 
from  a  lovely  girl  to  a  beautiful  woman.  Perhaps 
you  would  not  see  it  at  this  moment,  for  she  is 
sitting  as  I  have  seen  her  before,  leaning  over 
your  father  with  her  arm  -round  his  neck,  and  as 
her  face  is  bent  down  upon  his  gray  hair  it  looks 
quite  as  fair  and  girlish  as  ever ;  but  the  differ- 
ence is  in  her  air  and  bearing,  and  has  come  with 
living  more  in  the  world.  My  poor  father  was 
very  proud  of  her  beauty,  and  took  great  pains  to 
add  to  it  a  manner  which  he  thought  necessary 
as  a  setting  to  her  charms,"  —  Rachel  fancied 
that  the  long  breath  she  heard  sounded  a  little 
like  a  sigh,  — "  and  then,  invalid  as  my  father 
was,  he  always  attracted  agreeable  society  about 
him.  Even  in  our  quiet  life  she  has  been  ad- 
mired, and  that  gives  a  woman  a  certain  pres- 
ence." 

"  It  is  a  strange  experience,"  Rachel  said. 
"  I  suppose  you  can  scarcely  understand  how 
strange  ;  but  I  feel  at  this  moment  as  if  there 
were  two  Madges,  —  my  own  little  sister  who 


IO4  FROM    MADGE   TO    MARGARET. 

was  kneeling  here  a  few  moments  ago,  and  the 
lovely  lady  you  describe." 

"  Pray  do  not  imagine  any  change  in  your  sis- 
ter which  you  will  feel;  she  is  exactly  as  you 
knew  her  in  winning  ways  ;  but  I  don't  deny  that 
there  is  a  difference,  though  I  think  you  saw  in 
her  the  germs  of  this  readiness  to  adapt  herself 
to  a  wider  world  than  Hartfield.  One  thing  I  do 
assert,  Rachel,"  he  said,  taking  her  hand  in  his  as 
if  to  make  her  feel  the  pleasant  smile  she  could 
not  see :  "  that  I  do  not  at  all  intend  to  take  to 
myself  the  charge  of  any  spoiling  that  may  have 
been  done.  You  began  it  at  home,  and  her  chief 
flatterer  is  her  son  Phil,  who  is  constantly  telling 
her  she  is  his  '  pitty  mamma,'  and  that  he,  thinks 
her  '  perf  ly  booful.'  There  she  stands  now,  with 
the  youngster  in  h'er  arms,  and  he  has  her  face 
between  his  hands,  while  he  is  whispering  in  her 
ear  compliments,  I  have  no  doubt." 

No,  they  were  not  for  his  mother,  but  for  the 
grandfather;  for  he  was  asking  her,  "Is  yat  a 
yeal  granpa,  all  my  own  ?  I  fink  he's  'plendid." 

"  High  tea"  was  an  unheard  of  phrase  at  Hart- 
field,  but  a  very  well-known  institution,  as  bringing 
out  in  full  force  the  talents  of  Mrs.  Anderson  and 
her  high-priestess  Nancy.  If  love  were  an  essen- 
tial ingredient  in  cooking,  this  should  have  been 
a  wonderful  feast.  There  was  a  frequent  appear- 
ance of  an  eye  at  the  crack  of  the  dining-room 


HARTFIELD    ONCE    MORE.  10$ 

door,  as  Nancy  stood  watching  to  see  if  that 
"  blessed  dear  of  a  Mrs.  Rowland  had  as  good  an 
appetite  as  she  had  when  she  was  a  gal.  I  don't 
believe  she's  seen  the  beat  of  them  crullers  in  all 
her  Frenchy  goings-on." 

A  most  tempting  tea-table,  and  the  cheeriest 
of  parties  round  it.  No  one  would  have  thought 
that  there  was  an  element  of  happiness  wanting 
even  in  Rachel,  as  she  turned  her  face  from 
one  to  the  other,  guided  by  the  sound  of  their 
voices. 

Remembering  David's  confidence  a  few  nights 
before,  she  would  have  given  much  to  have  had 
one  glimpse  to  see  how  the  change  in  Madge  was 
striking  him,  if  indeed  his  reticent  face  should 
betray  any  sign  of  what  was  passing  within.  The 
thoughts  of  the  two  cousins  on  meeting  had  been 
in  much  the  same  fashion  of  each  other. 

With  David  it  was  :  "She  is  a  beautiful  woman, 
but  not  my  little  cousin  Madge.  How  can  it  be 
that  we  have  so  many  recollections  in  common  ? 
and  yet  now  she  seems  to  belong  to  another  kind 
of  life  than  mine." 

And  Madge  was  thinking  :  "  What  a  change 
there  is  in  David  !  It  is  not  that  he  is  so  much 
older,  or  improved  in  appearance  ;  but  there  is 
something  about  him  which  makes  him  seem  out 
of  my  reach.  I  could  not  make  that  grave,  rather 
handsome  man  do  all  I  wished  for  a  little  coaxing, 


IO6       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

and  yet  how  vexed  I  used  to  be  with  him  because 
he  would  never  be  angry  with  my  nonsense. 
Does  he  think  of  me,  I  wonder,  as  the  same  child 
of  whom  he  was  so  fond  ?  for-  I  have  altered  as 
much  as  he  in  his  way,  and  I  think  I  should  like 
him  to  know  that  I  am  something  more  than  a 
pretty  woman." 

David  Anderson's  nature  was  one  entirely  free 
from  complications.  To  have  won  Madge  to  be 
his  wife  would  have  been  with  him  to  hold  her  in 
his  heart  of  hearts,  had  they  lived  out  a  century 
together ;  to  have  loved  and  failed  to  win  her  had 
placed  her  there  as  his  most  sacred  memory,  — 
the  woman  to  be  regarded  by  him  with  a  feeling 
of  chivalry,  excluding  any  possibility  of  a  lower 
form  of  admiration. 

The  first  glance  told  him  that  she  was  more 
lovely  as  a  woman  than  she  had  been  as  a  girl, 
and  the  hours  they  had  spent  together  on  the 
journey  from  New  York,  while  Madge  was  thirst- 
ing for  all  that  he  could  tell  her  from  home,  and 
her  whole  interest  was  absorbed  in  those  towards 
whom  she  was  hastening,  showed  her  at  her  very 
best ;  still  there  was  a  change,  and  in  his  inmost 
heart-  he  was  glad  to  find  it.  To  have  had  her 
return  the  same  winning  little  creature  who,  he 
had  felt,  belonged  to  him  as  his  sister,  if  in  no 
other  relation,  would  have  brought  a  certain  pain. 
Now,  however,  she  looked  so  entirely  the  fitting 


HARTFIELD    ONCE    MORE.  IO/ 

wife  for  a  man  in  Rowland's  station,  that  he  felt  as 
if  he  should  have  deprived  her  of  her  due  had  he 
been  the  means  of  placing  her  elsewhere,  and  he 
would  be  content  to  stand  aside  and  admire  her, 
proud  of  his  early  choice. 

Perhaps  Rachel's  once  watchful  eyes  might 
have  recognized  a  familiar  expression  in  Madge's 
face,  showing  that  she  was  conscious  of  attracting 
David's  attention  (which  she  would  not  permit  to 
flag),  as  she  gave  an  animated  account  of  a  visit 
to  the  little  Scotch  village  from  which  the  Ander- 
sons had  come. 

It  was  a  great  pleasure  to  the  father  to  know 
that  one  of  his  children  had  been  among  the  old 
familiar  scenes,  though  the  names  of  most  of 
those  whom  she  had  seen  belonged  to  another 
generation  than  his,  and  very  few  remained  who 
remembered  him  ;  but  there  were  several  left  of 
David's  former  playmates  whom  she  had  found 
out  ;  and  he  was  quite  aroused  from  his  usual 
calm  as  she  told  of  one  and  another  who  still 
bore  in  mind  the  old  times.  Madge  was  not  a 
little  pleased  to  find  that  she  could  engross  his 
interest,  for  his  grave  attentions  had  slightly 
piqued  her. 

With  questions,  answers,  old  memories  re- 
called, they  lingered  over  the  table.  Master  Phil, 
who,  together  with  his  grandfather,  had  been 
much  disappointed  to  find  that  not  even  to  cele- 


IO8  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

brate  this  happy  occasion  was  he  to  be  allowed  to 
injure  his  digestion,  had  disappeared  in  his 
nurse's  arms  some  time  before ;  but  occasional 
sounds  heard  at  the  opening  of  a  door  testified 
that  he  was  still  awake,  and  not  altogether  in  an 
approving  state  of  mind. 

Dr.  Rowland  had  spoken  once  or  twice,  as  his 
ear  caught  what  was  going  on,  apparently  think- 
ing that  a  hint  from  him  might  suggest  to  his 
wife  to  go  to  the  child  ;  but  Madge  only  nodded 
with  a  "come  presently"  air,  and  continued  chat- 
ting and  laughing  to  the  delight  of  her  father  and 
David,  between  whom  she  was  seated,  —  when  a 
very  decided  roar  came  from  above,  and  Dr.  How- 
land  said,  "  Margaret,  I  am  afraid  Phil  is  wanting 
you  in  his  new  nursery." 

Madge  answered,  "  Yes,  dear,  directly  ;  let  me 
finish  this  one  story." 

The  tone  struck  Rachel  so. uncomfortably  that 
it  was.  well  she  did  not  see  the  slight  knitting  of 
the  brow  which  accompanied  it. 

"  Pray  let  me  go  to  the  little  fellow,"  she  said 
to  him  in  a  low  voice ;  and  then,  in  answer  to 
some  objection  on  his  part,  "  Oh,  yes  ;  it  is  just 
what  I  want,  to  have  him  to  myself  for  a  little 
while.  I  think  I  could  soothe  him,  and  I  can  find 
my  way  ;  let  me  go  alone,  please,  if  you  are  not 
afraid  to  trust  me." 

He  saw  that  she  was  not  only  in  earnest,  but 
moved  almost  to  tears,  and  let  her  slip  away. 


HARTFIELD    ONCE    MORE. 


That  word  "  Margaret,"  and  the  tone  in  which 
it  was  spoken,  —  was  it  only  her  anxious  fancy 
which  had  been  jarred  by  it  ?  And  was  there  a 
want  of  tenderness  in  him  ?  Or  did  it  imply  that 
something  more  than  a  gentle  suggestion  was 
needed  to  make  Madge  forget  her  own  amuse- 
ment ?  It  was  a  trifle,  and  put  aside"  to  be 
thought  of  —  if  necessary  —  at  some  future  time  ; 
but  it  joined  the  band  of  shadowy  troubles  which 
sometimes  take  a  more  persistent  hold  of  our 
thoughts  than  the  more  real  sorrows  —  or  what 
we  call  such. 

The  nursery  would  have  been  a  pretty  sight  to 
Rachel's  eyes,  with  the  fire  lighting  up  the  walls, 
(  where  still  hung  the  pictures  of  her  own  and 
Madge's  choosing  in  the  days  when  this  had  been 
their  winter  play-room,  —  shining  on  the  pleasant 
nursery  arrangements,  on  the  baby's  bath-tub,  and 
his  crib,  waiting  for  the  little  curly-headed  figure 
in  its  white  night-gown,  who  sat  on  the  hearth-rug 
gazing  over  the  fender  with  an  air  of  wide-awake 
rebellion.  The  nurse,  who,  even  in  the  short 
time  she  had  been  in  the  house,  had  heard  enough 
from  old  Nancy  to  give  her  an  interest  in  the  blind 
young  lady,  came  forward  to  receive  Rachel,  and 
led  her  to  a  low  chair  near  the  fire,  saying  that 
the  child  was  too  excited  to  sleep,  and  she  thought 
it  better  to  let  him  have  his  own  way  a  little,  rather 
than  to  disturb  Mrs.  Rowland  while  she  was  at  tea. 


HO  FROM    MADGE   TO    MARGARET. 

"Where's  my  new  gan'pa  ?  "  Phil  said,  rather 
severely,  looking  at  Rachel. 

"Grandpa  is  talking  to  mamma.  He  has  not 
seen  her  for  a  long  time,  you  know,  so  I  thought 
I  would  come  up,  and  perhaps  you  would  like  to 
have  me  tell  you  a  little  story  before  you  go  to 
sleep." 

"  'Bout  bears  and  fings  ? " 

*  I  never  saw  a  bear.  Wouldn't  you  rather  hear 
about  the  great  white  cat  that  lives  down  in 
the  kitchen,  and  carries  her  kittens  round  in  her 
mouth,  just  as  your  mamma  carries  you  in  her 
arms  ? " 

"  I  souldn't  fink  they'd  like  that." 

"And  then,"  Rachel  said,  "when  the  kittens. 
are  naughty,  and  do  not  do  what  their  mother 
tells  them,  she  takes  them  up  in  the  same  way 
and  shakes  them." 

"  I  feels  velly  naughty  this  night.  I  gad  my 
mamma  wouldn't  sake  me." 

"  No,  darling,  you  are  not  at  all  naughty,  only 
a  very  tired  little  boy,  who  wants  to  curl  up  in 
Auntie  Rachel's  lap,  with  a  nice  white  blanket 
wrapped  round  his  feet,  and  be  sung  to  sleep." 

"  My  mamma  says  I's  not  a  pitty  boy  when  I's 
cross  ;  but  I  'pose  you  touldn't  see  me  if  I  is 
naughty." 

Rachel  shrank  a  little  at  the  childish  touch  laid 
upon  her  sorrow  ;  and  the  nurse  said,  hastily : 


HARTFIELD    ONCE    MORE.  Ill 

"  Excuse  me,  ma'am.  I  hope  you  will  not  think 
I  have  been  telling  the  child  what  I  should  not ; 
but  Nancy  was  kind  enough  to  come  to  see  if  we 
had  all  we  wanted,  and  she  told  me  of  your  mis- 
fortune, ma'am,  and  Master  Phil  understood  more 
than  I  should  have  supposed." 

"  Don't  mind,  Susan  ;  you  have  done  no  harm. 
It  must  have  been  told  him  sooner  or  later,  and  I 
am  glad  to  have  it  over." 

Phil  had  risen  from  the  rug,  and  coming  a  little 
nearer,  was  standing  with  hands  clasped  behind 
him,  gazing  at  her. 

"  I  can't  see  your  face,  dear,  to  know  if  you  are 
naughty,  but  when  I  hear  your  voice  speaking  as- 
if  you  were  cross,  I  shall  know  I  have  no  good 
little  Phil  to  do  what  I  ask,  and  find  everything 
for  Aunt  Rachel's  blind  eyes.  My  darling,"  she 
said,  with  an  intense  desire  that  the  child  should 
understand  and  feel  for  her,  "  I  am  all  in  the  dark. 
I  can't  see  you,  or  any  of  the  beautiful  things  you 
are  looking  at ;  but  if  you  will  tell  me  all  that  your 
eyes  are  seeing,  and  let  me  have  your  little  hands 
to  lead  me,  and  your  feet  to  run  for  me,  I  shall 
never  feel  alone." 

Dr.  Rowland  had  come  to  see  if  all  was  quiet 
in  the  nursery,  and  stood  leaning  against  the  door, 
watching  the  scene  :  the  little  white  figure, — such 
an  earnest  look  in  the  sweet,  half-open  mouth,  and 
grave,  brown  eyes,  drawing  gradually  nearer  to 


112       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

where  Rachel  sat  with  outstretched  hands  and 
face  of  pleading  love,  —  the  tears  rushed  to  his 
eyes  as  he  thought  of  the  longing  in  her  heart 
for  one  glimpse  of  the  sight  so  dear  to  him.  The 
child  paused  a  moment,  as  if  he  were  thinking 
what  it  all  meant,  and  then  coming  close,  and 
looking  up  in  her  face,  one  little  hand  resting  on 
her  lap,  he  said  : 

"  Philly  tan  be  your  eyes  ;  I  take  you  wif  my 
hand,  and  lead  you  all  my  long  days." 

As  she  felt  the  touch,  heard  the  baby  voice, 
Rachel,  with  a  sobbing  cry,  caught  him  in  her 
arms  ;  but  her  agitation  frightened  the  child,  and 
-as  she  felt  him  shrink  from  her,  she  instantly  con- 
trolled herself,  and  with  gentle,  coaxing  voice  per- 
suaded him  to  let  her  lift  him  to  her  lap  and  fold 
him  in  her  arms.  When  Madge  presently  came 
running  up  stairs,  her  husband  was  waiting  for 
her,  that  she  should  not  enter  to  rouse  Phil, 
whose  drooping  eyelids  were  still  raised  once  in 
a  while,  as  he  begged  "  once  more  'bout  ze  'ittle 
white  kitties." 

If  there  had  been  any  vexation  in  Jack's  mind, 
it  disappeared  in  his  sympathy  with  his  wife's  ten- 
der delight  at  what  he  told  her,  and  the  thought 
that  her  baby  should  have  already  begun  his  part 
in  helping  Rachel's  sorrow. 


HAPPY    DAYS.  113 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

* 

HAPPY    DAYS. 

THIS  was  a  peaceful  time  at  Hartfield.  The 
father  and  mother  thought  it  was  scarcely  pos- 
sible to  be  grateful  enough  for  the  happiness  of 
waking  in  the  morning  to  remember  that  their 
child  was  again  under  their  roof;  and  though  it 
would  only  be  for  a  while,  the  probability  was 
that  they  would  never  again  be  separated  for  a 
very  long  time. 

Phil  lived  in  a  paradise  peopled  with  chickens, 
lambs,  and  other  young  things,  and  his  bright, 
pretty  mother  enjoyed  the  reward  of  her  Hart- 
field  popularity.  There  had  been  enough  change 
in  the  life  of  the  last  few  years  to  have  made 
some  women  wish  to  forget  that  there  had  ever 
been  a  time  when  their  ambition  was  confined  to 
being  the  favorite. of  a  little  country  town;  but 
Madge  took  a  very  hearty  delight,  not  only  in 
charming  both  old  and  young,  but  in  seeing  the 
gratification  which  her  attentions  gave.  It  was  a 
pleasure-loving  nature,  but  so  kindly  a  one,  with 
no  touch  of  jealousy  or  bitterness,  that  it  well 


fI4       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

might  deter,  not  only  those  who  loved  her,  but 
herself  also,  from  looking  too  closely  for  a  flaw  in  it. 

Madge  and  her  boy  were  to  stay  at  the  farm 
through  November,  while  Dr.  Hr.wland  went  to 
New  York  to  arrange  his  plans  for -professional 
work,  take  a  furnished  house,  and  have  all  in 
readiness  for  them.  Rachel  was  to  follow  her 
sister.  A  new  brightness  had  come  to  her  since 
Dr.  Howland  had  examined  her  eyes  ;  he  dared 
not  encourage  her  decidedly,  but  he  spoke  in  a 
hopeful  tone,  and  showed  such  interest  and  anxi- 
ety, that  Rachel  felt  that  nothing  would  be  left 
undone.  With  Madge  to  cheer  her  father  and 
mother,  and  with  her  brother  to  decide  for  her, 
she  felt  her  burden  a  comparatively  light  one. 

Phil,  true  to  his  promise,  was  always  anxious 
for  "Auntie  Ray"  as  a  companion,  and  was  con- 
stantly running  to  her  to  ask  for  sympathy  for  his 
pets — this  last  a  doubtful  pleasure;  for  when 
the  little  fellow  came  with  something  cuddled  up 
in  his  frock  to  be  put  in  her  lap,  "  such  a  booful 
fing  to  pat,"  her  hand  might  descend  upon  a  frog 
or  turtle.  Even  a  "  very  little  new  pig  "  had  been 
brought  for  admiration  ;  and  he  would  have  been 
quite  wounded  had  it  not  met  with  an  affection- 
ate reception. 

It  was  beautiful  autumn  weather,  and  Madge 
spent  half  her  days  about  the  place,  sometimes 
with  her  boy,  sometimes  accompanying  her  father 


HAPPY    DAYS.  115 

as  he  overlooked  the  laborers.  David  was  always 
ready  to  do  two  days'  work  in  one  at  the  factory, 
that  he  might  be  at  Madge's  disposal  for  a  long 
walk  or  drive.  He  had  entirely  made  up  his 
mind  that  after  this  long  separation,  all  bwt  the 
mere  form  of  intimacy  would  be  over,  and  instead 
of  that,  here  they  were  together  again  renewing 
all  the  pleasant  relations  they  had  had.  He 
found  Madge  as  lovely  as  ever,  and  yet  devel- 
oped into  just  the  agreeable,  sympathetic  woman 
of  the  class  whom,  except  in  his  rare  novel-read- 
ing, he  had  never  known  before,  and  of  whom  he 
had  always  thought  as  something  apart  from  his 
own  phase  of  life.  He  thoroughly  enjoyed  her 
companionship,  and  she  was  equally  glad  to  take 
again  her  old  place  with  him.  To  say  that  Madge 
had  any  definite  thought  of  gaining  an  influence 
over  David  which  should  endanger  his  tranquillity 
of  mind,  would  be  unjust ;  she  only  called  it  to  her- 
self a  return  to  their  old  friendship,  and  pleased 
herself  with  thinking  that  she  would  use  her  ex- 
perience of  the  conventional  world  to  give  him 
the  tone  which  was  all  he  needed  to  make  him  a 
more  agreeable  companion  than  most  of  the  men 
whom  she  had  met.  Madge,  with  her  power  of 
forgetting  the  disagreeable,  looked  back  upon  the 
past  four  years  as  only  a  training  in  luxury  and 
refinement  for  the  life  before  her.  She  should 
not  begin  in  New  York  as  a  stranger  ;  for  among 


Il6       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

the  friends  she  had  made  abroad  were  a  few  be- 
longing to  her  husband's  circle,  who  would,  she 
knew  very  well,  be  ready  to  admit  the  rich  and 
pretty  Mrs.  Rowland  to  their  intimacy.  It  was 
strange  to  look  back  to  the  time,  really  not  so 
very  long  ago,  when  she  thought  with  envy  of 
Helen  Lee's  position  as  something  entirely  be- 
yond her  reach.  So  these  were  days  of  pleasant 
recollection,  bright  anticipation,  and  keen  enjoy- 
ment of  the  love  about  her,  —  days,  ending  often 
with  long  talks  over  the  fire  after  the  old  people 
had  gone  to  bed,  leaving  the  others  sitting  round 
the  hearth,  Madge  always  in  a  low  seat  close  to 
her  sister ;  for  Rachel  liked  to  feel  her  presence. 

"  What  an  impossible  happiness  this  seems  !  " 
Rachel  said,  one  night,  laying  her  hand  on 
Madge's  head,  as  they  sat  in  their  usual  posi- 
tions—  Madge  on  a  footstool  resting  against 
Rachel's  knee;  and  David  in  his  uncle's  deep 
arm-chair  on  the  other  side  of  the  fireplace. 

"  Not  so  impossible  as  it  seemed  to  me  a  year 
ago  at  this  time,"  Madge  said,  "  when  we  were  at 
Nice,  with  poor  Mr.  Rowland  just  recovering 
from  one  of  his  most  terrible  attacks  ;  and  yet  we 
knew  that  the  same  thing  might  return  again  and 
again." 

"  Were  you  with  him  ? "  Rachel  asked. 
"  Oh,  no  ;  he  had  a  most  excellent  nurse  in  his 
own  servant,  and  Jack,  day  and  night,  when  he 


HAPPY    DAYS.  II/ 

needed  him.  I  never  saw  Jack  so  broken  down 
as  he  was  at  that  time,  when  his  father  implored 
him  to  give  up  keeping  him  alive.  Jack  said  he 
believed  that  it  really  amounted  to  that  ;*  for  any 
relaxation  of  care  would  have  ended  his  suffering. 

"  Deliver  me,  then,  from  the  resources  of  sci- 
ence/' said  David.  "  I  should  pray  to  be  allowed 
to  die  in  the  good  old-fashioned  way." 

"  Ah,  well !  he  did  not  say  that  when  he  was 
better.  In  a  week  or  two  after  that  he  was  able 
to  drive  with  me,  and  receive  visitors,  and  was 
apparently  enjoying  his  life  as  much  as  if  there 
were  not  such  a  fiend  of  pain  lying  in  wait  for 
him.  I  almost  think  Jack  suffered  more  from  the 
recollection  of  it  than  his  father.  But  there  never 
was  such  a  fellow  for  work.  As  soon  as  his 
father  needed  him  no  longer,  Jack  spent  all  his 
energies  on  a  poor  cripple  without  money  or 
friends,  and  with  some  wonderful  invention  made 
quite  a  good  imitation  of  a  man  out  of  him.  That 
was  Jack's  idea  of  relaxation  ! " 

"  I  wonder/'  David  said,  "  if  you  know  what  a 
fortunate  woman  you  are  ? " 

"  I  know  that  I  am  a  very  happy  woman  ;  but 
what  brings  it  to  you  so  strongly  at  this  moment? 
Jack's  kindness  is  not  a  new  idea  to  you." 

"  I  was  thinking  what  a  happy  thing  it  must  be 
for  a  wife,  when  the  business  of  her  husband's 
life  is  one  in  which  she  can  always  give  him  her 
interest." 


Il8       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET.' 

Madge  sat  looking  into  the  fire.  Presently  she 
moved  upon  her  footstool,  and,  with  her  hand  still 
resting  on  Rachel's  knee,  turned  her  face  to- 
wards him.  "  I  am  afraid  I  shall  displease  you, 
for  perhaps  a  man  could  not  understand  my  feel- 
ing ;  but  it  is  precisely  the  business  of  Jack's  life 
which  I  do  not  like.  Can  you  see  that  if  he  were 
a  lawyer  or  a  merchant,  though  he  might  work  all 
day,  when  the  day  was  over  he  would  be  glad  to 
have  done  with  it,  and  give  all  his  time  to  me  ; 
but  now,  between  his  interest  in  these  cases  and 
his  conscience,  I  feel  sometimes  as  if  he  had  but 
half  a  thought  for  me.  I  almost  think  I  should 
not  mind  it  so  much  if  he  were  doing  it  from 
necessity  ;  then  there  would  be  no  question  ;  but 
now  he  makes  his  choice  between  me  and  —  " 

"Then,  dear  child,"  interrupted  Rachel,  "I 
should  say  the  only  remedy  was  to  share  the 
interest  with  your  husband  ;  and  surely  there 
could  be  no  great  difficulty  in  that,  when  you  see 
before  your  eyes  the  good  he  does." 

"  I  can  assure  you,  too,"  David  said,  "  you  are 
greatly  mistaken  when  you  contrast  yourself  with 
other  women  as  to  your  husband's  having  time 
for  you.  Remember  the  couples  we  have  known 
all  our  lives  here,  where  the  husband  comes 
home  too  tired  to  do  anything  but  eat  and  sleep; 
and  I  have  known  something,  too,  of  married  life 
in  cities.  Think,  Madge,  how  it  must  be,  when 


HAPPY    DAYS.  119 

a  man  is  occupied  all  day  with  business  matters, 
and  his  wife  cannot  know  enough  to  sympathize 
or  help,  if  she  wants  to  do  it  ever  so  much.  No, 
you  certainly  do  not  know  how  fortunate  you  are." 

"  I  think  you  are  a  little  hard  on  me,"  Madge 
said,  turning  to  lay  her  face  again  on  Rachel's 
knee.  "  Mind  you,  I  am  finding  no  fault  with 
Jack  ;  I  have  loved  him  better  every  day  since 
we  were  married,  and  I  admire  him  all  the  more 
for  the  very  acts  which  keep  him  away  from  me. 
Perhaps,"  she  continued,  a  little  sadly,  "  it  is  be- 
cause I  would  like  to  be  more  the  sort  of  a  wife 
who  could  care  for  his  work  as  I  do  not." 

Rachel's  touch  upon  her  hair  was  very  soft,  and 
her  voice  as  tender,  as  she  said :  "  But,  Madge,  I 
think  this  is  all  a  trouble  of  your  own  making. 
Little  things  grow  into  great  ones  so  fast, 
that  before  you  know  it  you  might  find  a  wall 
growing  up  between  you  and  your  husband ;  and 
it  is  not  like  you,  dear,  to  be  wanting  in  sympa- 
thy for  any  one  in  trouble." 

"  Yes,  it  is  exactly  like  me,  Rachel  ;  and  not  in 
the  least  like  you  ;  so  no  wonder  you  cannot  un- 
derstand it.  Don't  you  remember,  when  we  were 
little  girls,  that  I  used  to  say  I  pitied  all  the  well 
chickens  and  kittens  because  you  never  cared  for 
them  ;  and  the  hospital  basket,  where  you  always 
had  some  poor  forlorn  thing  to  fuss  over.  Father 
said  I  was  selfish  always  to  want  the  prettiest  for 


I2O  FROM    MADGE   TO   MARGARET. 

pets.  But  you  said,  no  ;  that  it  was  you  who  were 
selfish  to  like  the  sickly  ones  best,  because  you 
wanted  them  to  care  for  you.  Oh,  Rachel  dear, 
there's  no  one  just  like  you,  for  you  can  be  what 
you  are,  and  yet  understand  and  bear  with  me." 

"  And  now  I  think  you  are  rather  hard  on  me," 
David  said.  "Of  course  I  can't  understand  you 
as  that  dear  soul  does  ;  but  as  to  bearing  —  I 
should  like  to  know  what  I  have  not  borne  from 
you,  and  thankfully  too,  ever  since  you  were  a 
curly-headed  little  thing  running  away  with  my 
tools.  But  this  is  what  I  say,  Madge  :  that  you 
don't  know  yourself.  Of  course  there  are  excep- 
tions ;  but  I  believe  that  most  husbands  and 
wives  are  obliged  to  do  their  work  separately. 
The  love  is  there  all  the  same,  and  always  ready  ; 
and  that  very  feeling  of  certainty  that  it  is  there 
is  what  prevents  their  calling  on  each  other  for 
sympathy  in  their  exclusive  worries.  That  is  the 
best  life.  And  in  the  poorest  they  grow  not  to 
care  for  sympathy.  Marriage  with  them  is  a 
fixed  fact ;  and  so  they  drudge  along  together  ; 
and  if  they  do  each  other  no  harm,  it  is  precious 
little  good  they  give  either.  But  you,  Madge, 
what  might  you  and  Jack  not  accomplish 
together ! " 

"  And  you  think  that  I  really  do  not  help  him," 
she  said  ;  "  or  that  I  am  only  not  doing  all  that  I 
might?" 


HAPPY    DAYS.  121 

David  paused  so  long  that  Rachel  spoke. 
"  Your  life  has  been  one  of  such  mixed  interests, 
with  the  necessity  for  putting  Mr.  Rowland  first, 
that  you  are  only  now  beginning,  you  and  Jack, 
to  live  really  for  one  another.  Now  you  will 
find  yourself  holding  a  different  relation  in  many 
ways." 

Madge  put  up  her  hand  to  stroke  Rachel's 
caressingly.  "  I  know  what  I  could  do,  with  you 
always  at  hand,  Rachel  ;  but  I  want  to  hear  what 
David  thinks  of  me.  Won't  you  answer  my 
questions  ?" 

"  Rachel  is  right  ;  this  is  the  real  Beginning  for 
you  both  ;  and  so,  as  I  have  done  my  fair  share 
of  letting  you  do  as  you  wanted  with  us  all,  I  tell 
you  the  truth  now  :  You  can't  help  your  husband 
as  he  ought  to  be  helped,  if  you  stop  short  when 
his  work  seems  disagreeable  to  you." 

"  You  have  not  quite  answered  my  questions, 
and  I  suppose  it  is  just  as  well.  I  feel  my  short- 
comings as  much  as  you.  It's  of  no  use.  I  shall 
never  be  a  stately  woman,  and  I  shall  never  be  a 
wise  one.  You  and  Rachel  have  tried  your  hand 
on  me,  and  now  poor  Jack  has  had  his  disappoint- 
ment. Have  you  not  observed  how  he  always 
calls  me  Margaret  ?  " 

"  I  supposed  that  he  liked  having  a  name  of 
his  own  for  you,"  David  said. 

"  Not  at  all ;  he  has  an  ideal  of  what  a  Margaret 


122  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

should  be,  and  thinks  that  I  can  be  brought  up  to 
the  standard.  This  is  a  foolish  trifle  ;  but  do  you 
know  this  name  of  mine  was  a  subject  of  discus- 
sion between  Jack  and  his  father  ?  You  two 
rather  reproach  yourselves  for  having  over-petted 
me ;  but  you  are  stern  advisers,  compared  with 
the  dear  old  man.  He  was  greatly  pleased  at 
first  with  my  name  of  Madge,  as  being  so  suited 
to  me,  he  said.  After  a  while  he  changed  it  to 
Magic,  and  that  didn't  please  Jack.  It  was  very 
rarely  that  he  thwarted  his  father  in  his  fancies, 
but  about  this  he  did  ;  and  when  Mr.  Rowland 
persisted,  Ja^k  began  to  call  me  Margaret.  I  like 
it  because  no  one  else  in  the  world  calls  me  so, 
and  he  has  a  slow,  pleasant  way  of  saying  it, 
which  belongs  to  himself ;  but  it  often  gives  me  a 
little  pang  ;  for,  though  he  loves  me  very  much, 
I'm  not,  and  I  never  shall  be,  the  Margaret  of  his 
imagination  ;  and,"  she  said,  in  a  low,  dreamy  way, 
"  I  think  that  he  knows  it." 

After  Rachel  and  Madge  had  gone  to  their 
rooms,  David  still  lingered  gazing  into  the  fire. 
The  past  years  might  have  all  been  pictured 
there,  so  vivid  to  him  were  his  recollections  of 
the  time  when  his  feeling  for  Madge  had  grown 
deeper  as  she  grew  from  a  pretty  plaything  to  the 
beautiful  woman  towards  whom  all  his  ambitions 
tended.  He  knew  what  his  love  had  been  now 
better  even  than  when  he  had  thought  of  life 


HAPPY    DAYS.  123 

with  her  as  a  possible  happiness.  Should  he 
ever  have  come  to  feel  that  there  was  anything 
wanting  to  the  reality  of  that  happiness  ?  He 
believed  never  ;  and  did  it  not  prove  that  the  man 
who  would  not  be  satisfied  till  his  ideal  woman 
really  existed,  would  call  out  -in  Madge  qualities 
which,  but  for  him,  would  have  lain  dormant  ? 
And  yet,  in  the  coals  he  saw  a  vision  which 
would  have  given  him  all  that  he  could  have  ever 
asked  of  life  ;  and  he  sat  gazing  till  it  fell  before 
him  in  gray  ashes. 

November  had  come,  when  Jack  announced 
that  all  was  in  readiness,  —  house  and  servants 
waiting  for  their  mistress.  Phil  did  not  take  the 
summons  at  all  in  good  part. 

"Where's  'e  good  o'  goin'  'zout  ganpa  and 
Nancy,  and  no  moollies  to  milk,"  — Jthis  last  with 
a  prolonged  wail.  And  Nancy,  the  most  abject 
of  all  the  slaves  over  whom  this  young  autocrat 
had  ruled  in  his  small  life,  had  her  dark  mis- 
givings. 

"Now,  Mrs.  Rowland,  my  dear,  if  you  see  that 
dear  child  a-growing  peaked-like,  just  you  take 
hold  of  the  cooking  your  own  self;  for  I'll  never 
believe  that  good  bread  ever  came  out  of  an  igno- 
rant pusson's  hands.  No,  I  don't  mean  that  you 
should  do  anything  to  make  the  fus'-class  families 
look  down  on  you  ;  only  you  mind  this :  let  the 


124  FROM    MADGE   TO    MARGARET. 

baby's  food  come  next  to  the  fear  of  the  Lord." 
And  Madge  promised  everything,  even  to  bor- 
rowing Nancy  in  case  of  need. 

Rachel  was  not  to  go  till  later  in  the  winter. 
The  operation  upon  her  eyes  could  not  be  per- 
formed quite  yet,  and  she  would  not  leave  home 
sooner  than  was  necessary.  They  were  all  con- 
tent at  Hartfield  ;  for  they  felt  that  it  would  have 
been  ingratitude  to  have  expended  any  regret 
over  this  parting,  which  was  as  nothing  after  the 
last  four  years,  and  summer  would  bring  them 
together  again. 

Madge's  frequent  letters  were  filled  with  the 
pleasure  of  the  life  which  she  found  quite  as  de- 
lightful as  she  expected, — pretty  house,  agreea- 
ble people,  and  Mrs.  Lee  and  Helen  close  by,  so 
that  she  could  never  feel  lonely,  or  at  a  loss  for 
advice  about  her  new  life. 

Jack  wrote  .privately  to  Rachel  that  he  quite 
admired  Madge  for  not  having  her  pretty  head 
turned  entirely  round  on  her  shoulders  by  her 
popularity.  She  had  already  half  a  dozen  intimate 
friends,  with  the  offer  of  several  more  ;  and  no 
one  paid  him  any  attention  except  as  the  charm- 
ing Mrs.  Rowland's  husband. 


A   NEW    WORLD. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A    NEW    WORLD. 

FEBRUARY  came,  and  with  it  the  appointed 
time  for  Rachel's  visit  to  New  York.  The  anxi- 
ety in  their  minds  was  too  great  to  bear  discus- 
sion. Only  to  have  her  safe  at  home  again,  whether 
as  a  charge  or  a  help,  for  the  rest  of.  their  days, 
was  all  that  the  father  and  mother  thought  of.  And 
as  for  Rachel,  she  had  been  so  peaceful  of  late  that 
she  dreaded  the  bringing  of  suspense  again  into 
her  life,  and  she  hoped  that  she  was  resigned  ; 
hoped  —  she  did  not  dare  say  more  than  that  to 
herself. 

"  It  seems  scarcely  possible,"  Rachel  said,  as 
she  drove  from  the  station  to  Madge's  house,  with 
David  by  her  side,  "  that  these  should  be  the  same 
streets  through  which  mother  and  I  drove,  —  two 
such  dismal  people  last  summer  ;  and  now  there  is 
a  welcome  waiting  for  us." 

And  such  a  welcome !  Jack's  hand  to  help  her 
from  the  carriage  ;  Madge  to  clasp  her  in  her 
arms  the  moment  she  stepped  within  the  doors  ; 
and  Phil's  voice  from  above.  "  Oh,  Aunty  Ray, 


126  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

I's  a-vvaiting  in  my  nighty-gown,  and  I  fought 
you'd  never  come  !  " 

To  Rachel,  the  only  drawback  was  a  certain 
sense  of  unreality.  As  Madge  placed  her  in  an 
easy-chair  before  the  fire  in  the  room  which  she 
told  her  was  to  be  ners,  ana  caning  the  maid  who 
would  wait  upon  her,  made  every  possible  ar- 
rangement for  her  comfort,  it  seemed  almost  im- 
possible that  this  charming  hostess  could  be  her 
little  sister  ;  and  there  was  a  touch  of  home- 
sickness in  the  feeling. 

The  last  day  of  David's  visit  in  New  York 
came,  and  he  was  sitting  alone  with  Rachel.  That 
evening  he  was  going  on  to  Washington,  and  they 
would  not  meet  again  till  after  the  operation  on 
her  eyes  was  over,  and  so  much  of  her  future  life 
decided. 

Dr.  Howland  had  made  David's  visit  a  most 
agreeable  one,  giving  him  the  opportunity  of 
meeting  exactly  the  men  he  most  wished  to  know  ; 
and  he  himself  was  rather  proud  to  see  the  im- 
pression David  had  made  (most  unconsciously), 
justifying  his  own  idea  that  here  was  a  man  much 
above  the  common.  A  certain  dignified  simpli- 
city put  David  quite  at  his  ease,  where  he  felt 
that  he  was  understood  ;  and  the  lingering  traces 
of  his  old  Scotch  accent  gave  an  agreeable  tone 
to  his  voice  very  unlike  the  voices  of  the  men  by 
whom  he  had  been  surrounded  in  his  work.  So 


A    NEW    WORLD.  I2/ 

the  visit  had  been  a  great  success  in  more  ways 
than  David  knew. 

"  If  I  could  see  Madge,"  Rachel  said,  "  I  know 
that  it  would  soon  seem  natural  ;  but  merely  to 
hear  her  giving  directions  and  taking  this  new 
life  so  quietly — don't  think  I  am  unreasonable, 
David,  but  it  does  put  her  rather  far  away  from 
me  —  just  at  first,  you  know." 

"  I  do  not  wonder  at  you,  of  course,"  David  re- 
plied ;  "  but  it  will  all  come  right.  As  for  me,  I 
look  at  the  child  in  astonishment  to  see  her  tak- 
ing her  life  here  as  if  she  had  been  born  to  it,  and 
yet  being  just  her  old  self  all  the  time.  Do  you 
know  what  was  the  color  of  the  dress  that  she 
wore  at  dinner  last  evening  ?  " 

"  Madge  told  me  it  was  pearl  color  when  she 
came  in  to  let  me  feel  of  it  and  smooth  her  over, 
to  give  me  an  idea  how  it  was  made,  before  she 
went  down  stairs  —  pearl  color  and  black  lace  ; 
one  of  her  French  dresses.  Was  it  pretty  ? " 

"  Pretty  enough  ;  but  it  was  not  so  much  that, 
as  its  looking  so  exactly  suited  to  her ;  as  much 
as  if  it  were  an  afternoon  at  Hartfield,  with  the 
work  done  up,  and  she  had  come  down  in  one  of 
her  fresh  calico  dresses.  Dear  me,  how  pretty 
she  used  to  look  in  those  pinks  and  blues,  or 
whatever  they  might  be.  But  I  must  say  there  is 
a  touch  added  now  —  a  grace  which  seems  as 
natural  to  her  as  her  pre':tiness." 


128       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

"That  is  it,  —  it  is  added  ;  it  is  something  in 
Madge  which  I  have  never  seen.  You  say  that  it 
all  seemed  natural  to  you  ;  but  it  is  hard,  David, 
to  think  there  is  anything  about  the  child  which 
separates  her  from  my  memory.  It  makes  it  so 
possible  that  other  things  may  come  in  of  which 
I  know  as  little." 

Rachel's  face  had  grown  during  the  last  months 
to  look  as  peaceful  as  before  her  affliction  had 
come  upon  her  ;  but  just  then  David  saw  such  a 
troubled  look  on  her  face  that  he  came  and  sat 
by  her  on  the  sofa,  and  said,  most  earnestly  : 

"  Rachel,  my  dear,  you  and  I  must  not  forget 
that  to  wish  Madge  exactly  as  she  used  to  be,  is 
to  wish  her  unfit  for  this  sort  of  life.  It  seems  a 
little  strange  to  us,  but  it  is  certainly  a  very  happy 
one  for  her.  I  watched  her  last  night,  and  with- 
out one  scrap  of  affectation,  she  was  taking  her 
part  in  all  the  gay  talk,  and  seeming  entirely  at 
her  ease.  It  struck  me,  because,  you  know,  now- 
adays I  am  often  thrown  among  people  out  of 
our  sphere,  and  though  I  feel  at  my  ease,  (I 
should  be  ashamed  of  myself  if  I  did  not,  when  I 
am  talking  with  people  about  things  in  which  we 
are  both  interested,)  yet  when  it  comes  to  the  give 
and  take,  which  I  suppose  goes  on  in  this  part  of 
the  world  all  the  time,  I  feel  as  if  I  were  tramping 
about  in  a  flower-bed." 

"  Madge  deserves  great  credit,  then,  for  the  way 


A    NEW    WORLD.  129 

in  which  she  stepped  back  into  her  old  place  at 
home  ;  for  I  am  sure  she  never  once  made  me 
feel  as  if  she  had  changed  a  whit  towards  her  old 
associations  ;  and  yet  four  years  was  time  enough 
to  make  a  new  life  for  herself" 

"And  that  is  just  what  makes  me  feel  the  con- 
fidence in  her.  But,  Rachel,  you  are  worried,  and 
whatever  it  is,  let  us  talk  it  out ;  it  will  be  some 
time  before  we  shall  have  such  a  chance  again." 

"  This  is  my  worry,  then  •  You  and  I  have 
never  talked  about  what  Madge  said  to  us  that 
night  by  the  fire;  but  it  has  been  in  my  mind 
ever  since.  There  is  the  possibility  of  trouble. 
You  know  what  Madge  is  to  me  ;  but  my  love 
takes  in  her  faults  and  all,  and  I  know  what  they 
are.  She  will  shirk  the  unpleasant  wherever  it 
is  possible,  for  other  people  as  much  as  for  her- 
self making  believe  it's  not  there,  sooner  than 
meet  it  ;  and  it  is  hard  to  make  her  see  things 
against  her  will.  That  is  why  I  have  always  felt 
an  intense  anxiety  as  to  the  influence  which 
might  come  into  Madge's  life,  good  or  bad  ;  it 
must  have  great  power." 

"  But  what  better  influence  than  that  of  such  a 
man  as  Howland  ? " 

"  I  think  there  has  been  an  opposite  one  at 

work,  suiting  her  nature  more  pleasantly  than  her 

husband's   sense  of  duty.     I  know  a  good  deal 

of   the  father  through  Mrs.  Lee,  and  so  far  as 

9 


I3O      FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

Madge's  personal  comfort  was  concerned,  it  was 
lucky  for  her  that  he  made  her  a  pet  instead  of  a 
mark  for  his  temper.  He  seems  to  have  done 
nothing  but  that  all  his  life,  —  spoil  or  nag  ;  but 
it  has  not  been  the  best  thing  for  her,  David." 

"  I  dare  say  not ;  but  I  don't  think  I  quite  get 
your  idea  yet.  What  is  it  that  you  are  really 
afraid  of?" 

"  Nothing  in  particular,"  she  said  with  a  sigh  ; 
"  nothing  that  I  could  help,  perhaps  ;  only  that  I 
have  always  stood  by  to  tell  her  to  take  care,  and 
I  feel  as  if  I  must  do  it  still." 

"  Well,  why  not  ?  " 

"  But  she's  out  of  my  reach  now.  You  see,  if 
Madge  had  married  and  settled  down  in  the  life 
to  which  she  Was  born,"  —  it  was  well  for  Rachel's 
tender  heart  that  she  did  not  see  the  look  of  pain 
in  David's  face,  —  "I  should  have  felt  that  all  her 
work  would  be  teaching  enough.  There  would 
have  been  her  house  to  mind,  her  child  always 
with  her.  But  now  there's  no  need  for  that  sort 
of  thing;  and  I  know  Madge  so  well,  and  J  am 
so  afraid  that,  for  a  while  at  least,  she  will  be  in  a 
whirl  with  it  all,  and  no  one  to  advise." 

"  There's  her  husband." 

"  Yes  ;  but  good  and  kind  as  he  is,  he  is  so  en- 
grossed with  his  work  that  Madge  goes  her  own 
way  rery  much  ;  and  I  think  she  hasn't  the  will 
to  follow  him,  or  he  the  time  to  look  after  her." 


A    NEW    WORLD.  13! 

David  sat  silent,  thinking,  but  with  a  troubled 
look,  till  Rachel's  hand  was  laid  on  his. 

"I'm  afraid  I  am  sending .  you  away  with  a 
care  that  you  needn't  have  had  ;  but  if  you  think 
me  too  anxious,  and,  maybe,  unjust  to  Madge, 
only  remember  what  it  is  to  me  to  sit  in  the  dark, 
when  all  I  want  is  to  read  in  her  face  whether 
all's  well  or  not." 

"  Rachel,  I  feel  it  to  the  bottom  of  my  soul ; 
but  it's  for  you,  not  for  her.  It  wouldn't  need 
your  eyes  to  tell  you  if  there  were  anything 
amiss  ;  you  would  feel  it  in  the  air." 

He  walked  to  the  window,  and  stood  looking 
out,  with  the  expression  on  his  face  of  will  to 
master  his  feeling, —  that  impulse  in  a  man,  which 
to  a  woman  would  come  with  the  desire  for  relief 
in  tears.  When  he  came  back  to  her,  he  said : 

"  Rachel,  let  me  say  this  much  to  you  before  I 
go :  If  there  ever  was  anything  in  which  you  did 
not  do  your  duty  by  Madge,  it  was  in  not  letting 
her  take  her  fair  share  of  work  ;  don't  do  the 
same  thing  now,  for  her  sake.  It  wouldn't  be 
any  wonder  if  she  were  a  little  too  fond  of  this 
new  life  of  hers  ;  but  the  best  way  to  distract 
her  from  it  is  to  let  her  know  that  for  once  it  is 
you  who  depend  on  her.  Oh,  my  dear,"  he  re- 
peated, as  he  took  her  in  his  arms,  "  I  haven't 
any  words  for  it  all  ;  but  I  believe  I  shall  not  bear 
it  as  patiently  as  you  will,  if  any  disappointment 
is  to  come  to  us." 


132       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

When  he  left  her,  Rachel  felt  as  if  she  scarcely 
knew  how  to  bear  what  might  be  coming  without 
the  strong  support  which  had  been  such  a  rock  to 
her.  He  had  gone  ;  and  Rachel  settled  down  to 
the  waiting  which  must  be  borne,  —  so  said  the 
physicians  whom  Dr.  Rowland  had  asked  to  con- 
sult with  him.  Living  for  the  first  time  since 
her  blindness,  in  a  strange  place,  it  seemed  to 
Rachel  as  if  she  were  walking  in  a  dream.  It 
was  not  only  that  she  had  nothing  to  help  her 
to  imagine  her  surroundings,  but  the  events  of 
the  life  itself  were  new  to  her.  Never  before  had 
she  been  in  a  household  which  went  on  without 
the  assistance  of  each  member,  and  where  there 
was  a  daily  choice  of  occupation,  instead  of  taking 
the  work  marked  out.  Jack,  indeed,  lived  as  busy 
a  life  as  if  all  were  depending  on  him  for  support ; 
but  Madge  flitted  where  she  liked.  Rachel  tried 
hard  to  remember  David's  parting  advice,  and 
Madge  was  full  of  thoughtful  attention  ;  but  there 
were  various  calls  upon  her,  and  Rachel  could 
not,  even  on  principle,  alter  her  nature  so  entirely 
as  to  keep  Madge  with  her  when  there  was  any- 
thing pleasant  to  call  her  off.  Rachel,  therefore, 
stayed  much  in  her  own  room,  where  she  could 
always  feel  when  the  sun  was  shining  brightly, 
and  where  Phil  was  always  ready  to  add  his 
happy  little  presence,  if  his  aunt  was  alone.  She 
so  shrank  from  meeting  strangers,  that  her  brother 


A   NEW    WORLD.  133 

and  sister  never  urged  her  to  join  them ;  but  it 
would  sometimes  happen  that  she  was  sitting 
with  Madge  down-stairs,  at  hours  when  her  inti- 
mate friends  came  in,  and  then  Rachel  would  sit 
apart  listening  and  trying  to  form  some  idea  of 
them  from  their  voices  and  conversation,  to  sup- 
plement the  picture  which  Madge  would  give  her, 
in  words,  after  they  had  gone.  Rather  surprised 
she  often  was  afterwards,  when  she  found  that 
the  gay  young  lady,  as  she  supposed,  whom  she 
had  heard  running  on  about  all  her  amusements, 
was  perhaps  the  mother  of  two  or  three  little 
children,  and  who,  Rachel,  in  her  country  breed- 
ing, would  have  imagined  could  like  nothing  so  well 
as  their  companionship.  However,  if  they  chose 
to  miss  so  much  pleasure,  it  was  nothing  to  her ; 
but  what  she  did  very  much  regret  was  the  influ- 
ence she  felt  all  this  might  have  on  her  sister. 
All  Madge's  friends  seemed,  from  what  she  heard, 
to  be  entirely  among  a  refined  and  agreeable  class, 
and  their  talk  and  discussions  merely  amused  her 
when  she  knew  that  they  came  from  girls  who 
had  no  especial  cares  ;  but  there  were  others,  — 
young  wives  like  Madge  herself,  —  and  the  com- 
pliments offered  Madge,  as  if  she  were  still  a 
girl  to  whom  amusement  was  the  first  interest, 
did  not  please  Rachel's  taste.  It  was  not  what 
she  had  wished  or  hoped  for  her  in  marriage, 
and  was  adding  still  more  to  the  love  of  admira- 


134  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

| 

tion,  which  Rachel  vVould  have  liked  to  see  wiped 
out  as  Madge's  one  serious  fault.  She  felt  sure, 
too,  that  her  brother-in-law  would  have  been 
made  very  happy  if  his  wife  had  ever  seemed  to 
prefer  an  evening  at  home  with  him  ;  but  though, 
to  do  her  jus'ice,  she  always  made  herself  bright 
and  pleasant  there,  when  nothing  more  entertain- 
ing offered  abroad,  still  she  never  refused  any 
chance  of  enjoying  herself  elsewhere.  And  he 
liked  his  home  so  much  better  than  any  ball  or 
theatre-party.  Often,  if  Madge  could  arrange  to 
join  Helen  Lee,  he  would  beg  off,  saying  that  he 
had  had  a  fatiguing,  anxious  day,  and  did  not 
feel  in  the  mood  for  gayety,  if  she  could  do  as 
well  without  him  ;  and  then  he  would  ask  Rachel 
to  sit  with  him  by  his  study  fire  ;  and  very  much 
did  she  enjoy  hearing  of  his  work,  his  plans,  and 
the  subjects  of  interest  suggested  by  them.  And 
yet  it  was  not  she  to  whom  this  should  have  been 
poured  out,  or  who  should  have  given  him  full 
sympathy  in  all  that  he  hoped  to  accomplish.  If 
Madge  would  only  have  gone  hand  in  hand  with 
him,  what  might  they  not  have  done  together! 
This  was  in  Rachel's  thoughts,  and  she  was  sure 
that  it  must  be  in  his.  But  if  Madge  could  not 
see  how  much  better  and  happier  it  would  be  for 
her  to  live  the  life  her  husband  preferred,  was  it 
not  better,  then,  that  the  sacrifice  should  be  made 
by  him,  of  at  least  watching  his  young  wife  in  her 


A    NEW    WORLD.  135 

gayety  ?  Rachel  went  over  the  ground  again  and 
again,  taking  first  one  side,  then  the  other,  never 
certain  of  anything  except  her  perfect  love  for 
her  sister,  and  her  appreciation  of  the  noble 
character  of  the  man  who  loved,  but,  she  feared, 
did  not  understand  Madge  so  well  as*  she. 

One  morning,  as  they  were  about  scattering 
from  the  breakfast-room,  Dr.  Rowland  asked 
what  were  the  plans  for  the  day. 

"  Various  matters,"  Madge  said.  "  I  am  going 
out  to  lunch  ;  and  then  I  shall  come  back  here  to 
take  Rachel  to  the  concert.  And  it  is  Mrs. 
Gray's  dinner  to-night  ;  don't  forget  that !  " 

"  I  am  glad  you  reminded  me,  for  I  might  have 
forgotten,  as  I  am  going  out  of  town  to-day  to  see 
a  patient  of  Carter's." 

"  Oh,  Jack !  and  won't  you  come  back  in  time 
for  the  concert !  It  is  the  Fifth  Symphony,  the 
first  time  we  have  heard  it  since  Leipzig,  and  I 
did  so  want  you  to  go  with  me !  And  then  it  is 
such  a  new  experience  for  Rachel,  I  thought  you 
would  enjoy  her  pleasure;"  and  Madge  looked 
really  disappointed. 

"  I  am  sorry,  dear,  very  sorry ;  but,  really,  I 
must  go.  The  patient  is  at  Fordham,  and  it  will 
be  impossible  to  get  back  in  time." 

"  But  why  need  you  go  ?  Dr.  Carter  has  handed 
over  his  patient  to  you  ;  why  cannot  you  as  well 
ask  some  one  else  to  go  in  your  place  ?  It's  not 


136       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

as  if  it  were  your  own  patient ;  and  I  am  sure 
you  are  always  doing  other  people's  work ;  and, 
for  once,  you  might  ask  another  doctor  to  oblige 
you." 

"  It's  not  that,  Margaret ;  but  this  is  a  peculiar 
case,  and  one  which  I  happen  to  know  more 
about  than  the  other  men  here,  from  having  seen 
something  of  the  same  kind  abroad  ;  no  one  else 
would  do  in  my  place.  No,  dear,  go  I  must ;  so 
be  a  good  little  woman,  and  don't  tease  me  to 
stay.  I  assure  you  I  should  need  no  urging  if  I 
were  not  sure  that  I  ought  to  go." 

"'Ittle  folks  shouldn't  tease,"  Phil  remarked, 
sententiously,  from  the  breakfast  table,  where  he 
was  sketching  out  his  idea  of  a  cow  on  the  cloth 
with  the  bowl  of  a  spo'on. 

"  Then,  young  master,  run  with  Susan ;  for 
there  she  is  waiting  at  the  door  for  you,"  his 
father  said. 

Phil  objected  to  such  an  early  application  of  his 
remark ;  and  being  not  at  all  inclined  to  stop  his 
drawing,  Rachel  suggested  that  she  should  go 
with  him,  and  he  might  come  to  her  room  for  a 
little  while,  before  going  to  the  nursery. 

"No,"  his  father  said,  "either  let  him  stay 
here  ;  or  if  he  is  to  go,  don't  coax  him  ;  much 
better  to  teach  him  to  obey  rules  on  the  spot ;  it 
saves  a  deal  of  trouble  by  and  by." 

And  as  Phil  had  found  out  by  this  time  that 


A    NEW    WORLD.  137 

what  papa  said  he  meant,  he  went,  only  asserting 
his  rights  by  walking  three  times  round  the  table. 
But  though  Madge  never  openly  interfered  be- 
tween the  two,  she  could  not  help  saying,  as  soon 
as  the  door  closed,  "  Oh,  Jack !  what's  the  good 
of  being  firm  with  such  an  atom  ? " 

"Just  because  he  is  an  atom  ;  and  it  is  not  half 
the  struggle  to  begin  now,  before  he  gets  to  the 
age  when  he  would  want  to  know  what  for.  It's 
very  much  pleasanter  for  us  and  for  him  if  we 
can  settle  the  matter,  and  give  him  the  habit  of 
minding." 

"  I  don't  like  the  habit  myself,"  Madge  said, 
"and,  really,  Jack,"  coming  up  to  him  with  a 
coaxing  look,  "you  make  me  so  uncomfortable 
with  doing  your  duty  at  all  sorts  of  inconvenient 
times,  that  it's  not  at  all  encouraging  as  an  ex- 
ample." 

"  Are  you  trying  to  persuade  me  to  stay  ?  Why, 
dear,  it's  a  question  perhaps  of  a  whole  lifetime 
of  suffering  to  a  little  fellow  not  much  bigger 
than  Phil.  Think  !  if  I  can  go  and  give  the  poor 
mother  some  hope." 

"  There  !  there  !  there,  Jack  ! "  she  said,  putting 
her  arms  impetuously  round  her  husband's  neck, 
"  of  course  you  must  go  ;  and  I'm  nothing  but 
selfish  and  horrid  !  Only  give  me  credit  for  for- 
giving you  for  being  always  in  the  right." 

"  I  would  rather  give  you  credit  for  keeping 


138       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

me  to  the  right.  Perhaps  you  don't  know  all  I 
deserve  for  resisting  your  temptation,"  he  said, 
stroking  the  pretty  head  which  rested  against  his 
shoulder.  "  I  should  be  as  glad  as  you  if  we  were 
to  hear  the  symphony  together,  and  to  know  how 
Rachel  takes  it,  too." 

"  As  a  pretty  hard  lesson  I  am  afraid,"  Rachel 
said.  "  My  fear  is  that  Madge  is  going  to  be 
very  much  ashamed  of  me,  for  I  shan't  know 
what  it's  all  about." 

"  Oh,  yes,  dear,  you  will ;  a  great  deal  of  it,  at 
least.  Don't  you  remember,  Jack,  how  your 
father  used  to  insist  upon  my  going  through  all 
the  concerts  as  a  part  of  my  polite  education  ? 
At  first  I  used  to  think  that  I  could  make  more 
music  out  of  the  frogs  at  home." 

Her  husband  did  not  smile  back  again,  be- 
cause he  was  thinking  how  his  father's  constant 
argument  had  been  with  Madge,  that  it  was  be- 
cause it  was  the  proper  thing  to  do,  that  she  was 
to  enjoy  what  he  told  her  to  enjoy. 

"  How  are  you  to  manage  your  lunch,  and  then 
to  be  here  for  Rachel  in  time.  What  fine,  in- 
digestible affair  is  it  to-day  ?  " 

"  Nothing  indigestible  at  all  ;  only  a  very 
healthy  mutton-chop,  and  possibly  a  potato." 

"  Did  you  say  that  it  was  at  Mrs.  Harrison's  ? 
I  thought  you  were  there  only  a  day  or  two  ago. 
Are  you  growing  so  intimate  ? " 


A    NEW    WORLD.  139 

"  The  other  day  was  a  very  fine  affair  ;  this  is 
only  just  by  ourselves,  with  perhaps  Miss  Morris 
to  talk  over  some  little  dances  which  they  wanted 
me  to  help  them  about  arranging."  She  glanced 
at  her  husband's  face,  and  seeing  a  look  of  rather 
surprised  annoyance,  said  a  little  uneasily :  "  They 
wanted  my  help,  they  said  ;  I  don't  exactly  know 
why." 

"  Nor  I  either,"  her  husband  answered,  gravely  ; 
"  and  I  would  much  rather  they  managed  their 
dances  without  calling  on  you." 

"  But  I  don't  understand,  Jack,  why  you  object 
now.  You  always  like  me  to  dance  ;  what  is  the 
matter  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  object  to  your  dancing  ;  but  I  don't 
very  much  like  your  associating  yourself  with 
Mrs.  Harrison  in  any  way  which  is  likely  to  pro- 
mote an  intimacy." 

"  Why  should  I  not  be  intimate  with  her  ?  You 
knew  her  quite  well  before  either  of  you  were  mar- 
ried ;  and  it  is  very  pleasant  to  me  to  see  her,  be- 
cause, as  I  knew  her  abroad,  I  feel  as  if  she  were 
quite  an  old  friend.  And,  Jack,  your  father  fan- 
cied her  particularly,  and  used  to  say  that  her 
manners  were  exactly  what  he  would  like  mine  to 
be,  and  what  a  desirable  person  she  was  for  me  to 
know." 

Dr.  Rowland  moved  abruptly  from  his  wife's 
side  and  walked  away  to  the  window,  where  he 


I4O       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

stood  looking  out  vaguely,  and  wondering  how  he 
should  explain  himself  without  disrespect  to  the 
memory  of  his  father,  who  certainly  had  been 
most  kind  and  loving  to  Madge,  showing  her,  in 
his  old  age,  an  unselfishness  which  no  one  else 
had  ever  had  from  him.  It  was  intolerably  pain- 
ful to  him  to  see  the  effects  of  these  worldly  teach- 
ings cropping  out  in  his  wife  ;  and  yet  more  and 
more  he  felt  how  the  seed  had  taken  root  in  the 
mind  of  the  girl  coming  straight  from  her  country 
home,  to  learn  the  ways  of  her  new  life  from  one 
who  never  regarded  any  act  except  as  to  the  effect 
it  was  to  have  on  his  audience.  Bitterly  he  regret- 
ted, every  day,  that  they  had  not  been  able  to 
begiji  their  married  life  alone  together  ;  but  what 
else  could  he  have  done,  he  thought.  All  this 
was  in  his  mind,  and  he  did  not  speak  till  she 
joined  him  and  said  : 

"  Of  course,  Jack,  I  must  do  as  you  say ;  but 
I  really  don't  see  what  possible  objection  you 
can  have  to  my  joining  Mrs.  Harrison  in  this 
plan." 

"  What  is  it  exactly  that  you  want  to  do  ? " 
"I  don't  quite  know  myself;  because  it  was 
for  that  I  was  going  there  —  to  find  out.  But  in 
a  general  way,  I  know  that  she  wanted  to  get  up 
some  dances,  which  we  were  to  have  every  week 
at  each  other's  houses,  and  which  could  be  kept 
just  among  the  people  we  liked." 


A    NEW    WORLD.  14! 

"And  exclude  just  some  of  the  people  I  would 
like  you  to  know  best,  I  suppose." 

"Ah,  that's  what  it  is,  dear  ;  but  don't  you  see" 
(most  coaxingly)  "  that  I  like  your  improving  peo- 
ple ever  so  much,  when  I'm  ready  to  take  it  all  in  ; 
but  they  don't  generally  dance  as  nicely  as  the 
unimproving  ones." 

"  That  does  not  follow  at  all,"  he  said,  looking 
still  more  annoyed.  "  I  have  introduced  men  to 
you  whom  you  liked  very  much  as  partners,  and 
found  entertaining,  you  said  ;  they  were  among 
the  people  whom  I  most  want  you  to  know  ;  and 
yet  I  dare  say  you  will  find  a  black  mark  against 
their  name  on  Mrs.  Harrison's  list.  My  dear,  why 
won't  you  be  contented  with  the  pleasant  set  whom 
you  see  at  the  Lees',  without  joining  in  with  this 
silly  idea  of  an  exclusive  coterie  ? " 

He  looked  anxiously  at  her  ;  for  there  was  a 
wilful  expression  coming  into  her  face,  which  he 
knew  well ;  not  often  there,  but  which  he  had 
learned  to  dread. 

Rachel  had  been  listening  with  an  increasing 
sense  of  pain,  and  now  sat  in  unhappy  doubt 
whether  she  should  do  most  harm  or  good  by  in- 
terfering. She  knew  that  look,  too,  and  could  im- 
agine it  now.  She  knew  that  when  it  came  there 
would  be  a  flash ;  quenched,  perhaps,  in  a  shower  of 
tears  ;  but  Madge  might  first  say  something  which 
would  leave  behind  a  sting  to  be  remembered 


142  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

when  she  herself  was  all  sunshine  again,  and  had 
even  forgotten  that  she  had  not  had  her  own  way. 
For  she  was  not  persistent,  and  would  sometimes 
yield  with  a  rapidity  which  was  almost  provoking, 
as  showing  that  it  was  not  to  her  a  matter  worth 
all  the  pain  it  had  caused.  While  she  thought, 
the  time  had  gone  by ;  for  Madge  was  speaking 
in  a  thoroughly  irritated  tone. 

"  It  must  be  as  you  say,  I  suppose  ;  but  it  would 
be  rather  easier  to  obey  you,  if  you  would  let  me 
have  a  reason  for  giving  up  what  I  want  to  do  so 
much." 

"  I  thought  I  had  given  you  a  very  good  rea- 
son, dear,  for  doing  what  I  ask.  Why  need  you 
talk  of  obeying  ? " 

"  Because  that  is  just  what  it  amounts  to.  I 
thought,  of  course,  I  could  join  in  such  a  pleasant 
simple  affair  as  that  without  asking  leave,  like  a 
child.  But  if  you  don't  choose  that  I  should,  per- 
haps you  would  not  object  to  telling  Mrs.  Harri- 
son so  yourself,  —  it's  not  a  very  agreeable  thing 
for  me  to  say." 

"  Margaret,  why  will  you  let  such  a  matter  as 
this  make  any  words  between  us  ?  Don't  you  see 
that  it  is  a  dangerous  position  for  a  young,  inex- 
perienced person  like  you  to  make  up  a  set  of  your 
own  ?  You  don't  know  enough  of  the  bearings 
of  things  about  you ;  and  beside  the  danger  of 
choosing  people  whom  I  would  rather  you  should 


A    NEW    WORLD.  143 

not  know,  you  will  surely  make  yourself  very  un- 
popular with  half  the  world  at  least.  I  am  per- 
fectly willing  to  arrange  it  with  Mrs.  Harrison  ; 
but  you  know  very  well  you  would  not  want  me 
to  interfere;  it  does  not  seem  to  me  a  difficult 
matter  to  tell  her  just  the  truth  :  that  you  do 
not  know  people  well  enough  to  pick  and  choose." 

"  Very  well ;  have  it  your  own  way ;  but  I  think 
it  is  rather  mortifying  to  own  that  my  husband 
cannot  trust  me  to  go  into  society  by  myself,  — 
particularly  when  you  always  let  me  see  that  it  is 
such  a  bore  to  you  to  go."  She  gave  him  no  time 
to  answer,  and  left  the  room,  shutting  the  door 
after  her  with  an  energy  that  made  Rachel  start 
in  her  anxiety,  as  if  it  were  literally  a  thunder- 
clap. 

She  sat,  wondering  what  she  should  do.  To 
follow  Madge  alone  was  impossible  for  her,  and 
she  could  not  bear  to  disturb  Jack  for  the  mo- 
ment. This  was  the  first  dispute  she  had  heard 
between  them.  She  had  thought  such  clashing 
was  possible  ;  but  she  had  no  experience  to  guide 
her  as  to  whether  she  might  now  try  to  set  things 
straight,  if  that  could  be  done.  She  had  not  long 
to  wait. 

As  the  door  shut,  Dr.  Rowland  drew  a  long 
breath,  and  for  a  moment  stood  as  his  wife  had 
left  him,  with  the  same  look  of  puzzled,  anxious 
care  on  his  face.  Was  this  to  go  on  always,  he 


144  FROM    MADGE   TO    MARGARET. 

was  tHinking ;  and  was  it  impossible  for  him  to 
make  this  woman,  whom  he  loved  so  entirely, 
take  a  share  in  the  life  which  he  felt  ought  to 
be  his  ? 

As  he  moved  to  the  door  he  became  conscious 
of  Rachel,  whose  presence,  poor  soul,  had  been 
quite  forgotten  in  the  last  few  moments. 

"  Excuse  me,  Rachel,"  he  said,  with  especial 
kindness,  feeling  how  hard  this  was  for  her,  "  I 
am  very  sorry  you  should  have  heard  such  a  dis- 
agreeable discussion.  It's  not  often,  I  hope,  that 
Margaret  and  I  differ  so  entirely  ;  but  I  cannot 
always  make  her  see  matters  as  I  think  right, 
and  it's  not  altogether  her  fault,  dear  child  ;  there 
have  been  influences  which  were  not  the  best  for 
her.  Some  day,  Rachel,  you  and  I  will  talk  about 
it,  and  perhaps  you  can  help  me.  You  can  do  so 
at  this  moment  by  going  to  her,  for  I  have  not  a 
moment  to  spare  ;  we  shall  find  her  —  " 

"  Yes,"  Rachel  said,  "  longing  for  some  one  to 
tell  her  how  naughty  she  has  been.  You  may 
trust  me,  Jack." 

Madge  was  standing  in  her  husband's  study, 
looking  into  the  fire,  her  face  wet  with  tears  as 
she  looked  up  when  they  came  in  and  he  led 
Rachel  to  a  chair. 

"  I  will  send  Thomas  to  you  for  orders  after  he 
has  left  me  at  the  station,  and  I  shall  be  at  home 
in  time  to  dress  for  dinner." 


A    NEW    WORLD.  145 

Madge  looked  blankly,  as  if  she  had  expected 
something  more  ;  but  he  had  gone  ;  and  as  they 
heard  the  front  door  shut  after  him,  she  dropped 
down  in  front  of  Rachel,  and  putting  her  head  on 
her  lap,  cried  very  much  as  she  would  have  done 
a  dozen  years  before.  And  Rachel  sat  in  her  own 
old  fashion,  stroking  Madge's  hair,  and  waiting  for 
the  moment  to  come  when  it  would  be  worth  while 
to  speak. 

At  last,  with  a  final  sob,  Madge  said  : 

"  I  don't  think  it  was  at  all  kind  to  go  without 
one  word." 

"  He  had  the  train  to  catch  ;  and  I'm  afraid 
one  word  wouldn't  have  set  things  straight." 

"  Just  to  say  that  he  was  sorry  wouldn't  have 
taken  very  long." 

"  My  dear  !  "  Rachel  said,  astonished  that  even 
Madge  should  think  repentance  called  for  from 
any  one  but  herself,  "  you  certainly  did  not 
expect  him  to  say  that  he  was  sorry  for  himself, 
and  I  don't  think  you  were  in  a  state  to  hear  that 
you  had  done  wrong." 

"  He  might  have  said  that  he  was  sorry,  or  I 
was  sorry, —  I  don't  care  who,  —  only  not  go  away 
without  a  word,  as  if  it  were  too  bad  to  be  spoken 
about.  I  would  much  rather  have  had  my  ears 
boxed  at  once." 

"  It's  just  the  old  story,  dear.  What  you  would 
like  is  to  be  punished,  and  have  it  over  quick,  and 
10 


146  FROM    MADGE   TO    MARGARET. 

then  say  no  more  about  it  till  next  time.  I  won't 
interfere  while  your  husband  is  present  ;  but, 
Madge,  I  cannot  sit  by  and  see  you  spoiling  your 
happiness,  and  not  say  a  word.  Such  a  scene  as 
that  makes  mischief,  though  Jack  may  come  home 
and  try  to  act  as  if  he  had  forgotten  your  sharp 
words." 

"  Then  you  expect  me  to  give  up  the  moment 
Jack  thinks  differently  from  me  ?  I  think  he's 
very  hard  and  unjust  to  Mrs.  Harrison.  You 
don't  know  how  kind  she  was  to  me  abroad, 
the  winter  that  we  were  in  Nice  ;  and  she  would 
be,  here,  if  Jack  did  not  have  this  foolish  no- 
tion about  her.  Rachel,  don't  you  take  his  side 
against  me." 

"  My  dear  child,  I  shall  always  be  on  the  side 
of  any  one  who  wants  you  to  do  right,  and  surely 
Jack  must  be  the  best  judge  as  to  what  is  wise  for 
you  to  do  here,  where  all  is  so  new  to  you." 

"  Not  at  all.  I  always  used  to  take  his  father's 
opinion  about  anything  of  this  sort,  because,  as 
he  said,  Jack  could  not  shine  in  philanthropy  and 
society  at  the  same  time.  I  am  certain  that  Mr. 
Rowland  would  have  said  that  I  might  trust  to 
Mrs.  Harrison  not  to  lead  me  into  a  mistake." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  I'm  not  going  to  discuss  the 
society  part  of  it  ;  perhaps  you  will  think  I  know 
just  as  little  about  what  concerns  your  relations 
with  your  husband  ;  but,  Madge  dear,  I  know  you, 


A    NEW    WORLD.  147 

and  if  you  persist  in  going  against  his  judgment, 
you  will  get  involved  with  this  lady,  and  then  be 
sorry,  when  it  will  be  twice  as  awkward  to  get 
out  of  it." 

"  But,  Rachel,  I  assure  you,  Jack  is  mistaken 
about  her." 

"  Even  if  he  is,  I  advise  you  to  give  it  up.  You 
never  had  the  daring  to  be  naughty  long,  when 
you  were  a  child.  I  think,  as  soon  as  you  had 
your  own  way,  you  felt  rather  scared,  as  if  you  were 
left  all  by  yourself  ;  so  that  I  am  sure  you  would 
not  be  contented  even  if  Jack  yielded  his  judg- 
ment to  yours." 

"  Jack  is  mistaken  ;  why  should  not  he  yield  as 
well  as  I  ?  " 

"  Because  I  don't  think  the  question  was  about 
Mrs.  Harrison  so  much  as  about  you  and  your  po- 
sition as  a  stranger.  Now,  dear,  my  advice  to  you 
is  to  set  aside  anything  but  the  idea  of  doing  what 
your  husband  asks  you.  What  amusement  can 
be  worth  the  going  so  utterly  against  his  wishes  ? 
He  does  not  want  you  to  give  up  your  friend,  only 
to  avoid  joining  her  in  this  plan.  Come,  Madge, 
you  can  always  do  what  is  right  when  you  look  a 
thing  straight  in  the  face.  Don't  make  yourself 
believe  that  there  is  anything  in  the  world  you 
want  as  much  as  to  make  him  happy." 

Madge  tried  to  argue  a  little  as  to  her  husband's 
unwillingness  to  give  up  his  plans  to  her,  but  it 


148  FROM    MADGE   TO    MARGARET. 

ended  with,  "  Of  course  I  shall  never  have  my  own 
way  about  anything,  if  I  have  to  fight  you  and 
Jack  both  ;  but  you  know  it  will  not  improve  me 
at  all  to  be  good  against  my  own  judgment." 

"  There's  no  knowing  how  much  your  judgment 
will  improve  if  you  only  mind  us.  Now  take  me 
up  stairs,  and  then  you  can  go,  and  you  may  put 
all  the  blame  of  not  doing  what  Mrs.  Harrison 
likes  on  having  a  troublesome  sister  on  your 
hands,  and  so  hurt  nobody's  feelings." 

Madge  declared,  with  many  kisses,  that  it  would 
be  a  great  humbug  to  make  any  care  that  she  took 
of  Rachel  a  reason  for  staying  at  home  ;  but  it 
did  come  over  her  with  a  flash  of  pain,  that,  if  all 
did  not  go  well  with  Rachel,  she  would  have  no 
spirits  for  any  amusement ;  and  the  self-reproach 
for  having  forgotten  this  brought  her  back  to  her 
better  self,  so  that  she  went  off  all  bright  and 
smiling,  thinking  how  pleased  Jack  would  be, 
when  he  came  home,  to  know  that  she  had  done 
as  he  wished,  —  her  satisfaction  not  at  all  dis- 
turbed by  any  remembrance  of  the  unnecessary 
pain  she  had  given  him  first. 


THE    SELECT    FEW.  149 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE     SELECT     FEW. 

THE  lady  who  had  given  rise  to  the  morning's 
discussion  would  have  been  sorely  puzzled  to 
know  how  any  one  could  do  otherwise  than  ad- 
mire her  unselfish  energy  in  endeavoring  to  or- 
ganize a  party  which  should  not  include  a  single 
bore  ;  always  supposing  such  an  ideal  gathering 
a  possible  achievement  even  for  the  most  gifted  of 
women.  To  make  life  as  agreeable  as  it  was  ca- 
pable of  being  made,  and  her  surroundings  as 
perfect  as  money  and  taste  could  render  them,  was 
to  her  simply  the  fulfilment  of  what  she  thought 
the  world  had  a  right  to  ask  of  her.  Indeed,  her 
ideas  of  duty  in  this  respect  were  rather  exalted, 
and  she  would  talk  on  in  her  charming  voice, 
quoting  Eastlake  and  Ruskin,  Swinburne  or  Rob- 
ertson's sermons,  to  suit  her  audience  ;  that  audi- 
ence generally  leaving  her  with  a  mazy  doubt 
whether  it  would  be  possible  to  sweep  the  com- 
monplace quite  out  of  sight,  and  (always  with  the 
assistance  of  Mrs.  Harrison)  refurnish  one's  life 
on  a  purely  artistic,  luxurious  plan.  One  of  Mrs. 


I5O       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

Harrison's  theories  (and  she  had  as  many  as  if 
she  were  corresponding  secretary  of  a  Woman's 
Club)  was  that  a  woman,  to  be  thoroughly  fasci- 
nating, must  have  a  power  over  her  own  sex  as 
well  as  the  other ;  and  this  it  was  which  made 
her  a  dangerous  companion  for  a  person  like 
young  Mrs.  Rowland,  to  whom  the  world  and  its 
ways  were  so  new  and  attractive. 

With  Mrs.  Harrison  Madge  found  her  cousin 
Miss  Mowis,  a  most  useful  retainer  for  a  popular 
lady  who  could  not  avoid  the  inconvenient  ne- 
cessity of  charming  dull  people  as  well  as  bright 
ones.  Miss  Morris  was  in  that  state  of  advanced 
girlhood  when  even  bores  counted  as  men,  worthy 
of  being  entertained  as  such  ;  so  that  Mrs.  Harrison 
need  never  fear  being  interrupted  in  a  desirable 
tete-a-tete  when  her  faithful  Alicia  was  at  hand 
to  draw  off  the  intruder. 

"  You  are  delightfully  punctual,"  Mrs.  Harri- 
son said  ;  "  and  here  is  Alicia  with  a  list  all  over 
mysterious  signs,  which  mean  death  to  bores  and 
the  best  of  partners  to  the  fascinating.  I  don't 
altogether  agree  with  her  casting  of  lots,  and  we 
want  your  fresh  judgment." 

"  Oh,  please  don't  give  me  any  responsibility. 
I  shall  judge  them  all  by  their  feet,  and  not  by 
their  brains.  And  besides,  you  must  not  count 
me  as  one  of  your  circle,  for  I  find  it  is  going  to 
be  impossible." 


THE    SELECT    FEW.  151 

"  Of  course,  to  do  anything  which  Mrs.  Lee 
does  not  approve,"  Miss  Morris  said  in  a  half 
aside. 

Mrs.  Harrison  shook  her  head  at  her.  "  Non- 
sense, Alicia.  Mrs.  Rowland  is  not  a  little  girl 
under  Mrs.  Lee's  tuition.  Oh,  no ;  I  will  not 
take  any  refusal,  and  I  will  explain  away  all  your 
objections  in  two  minutes." 

"  I  wish  you  could  dispose  of  this  ;  but  you  will 
see  that  it  is  out  of  the  question  for  me  just  at 
this  time.  It  is  on  account  of  my  sister,  about 
whom  I  told  you.  The  operation  on  her  eyes 
must  come  very  soon,  and  I  ought  not  to  have 
thought  of  making  any  settled  engagements  till  we 
are  quite  at  ease  about  her.  So  you  must  put 
some  one  in  my  place,  and  I  hope  I  have  not  in- 
terfered with  your  plans." 

"  So  Jack  Rowland  does  not  approve  of  me 
since  he  has  turned  philanthropist.  I  suspected 
myself  frowned  at  the  other  night,  and  now  he's 
going  to  use  me  as  an  awful  warning.  How 
nicely  she  does  as  she  is  told  !  "  This  Mrs.  Har- 
rison thought ;  and  she  said,  sympathizingly : 
"  Well,  my  dear,  I've  nothing  to  say  to  such  a 
reason  as  that,  and  I  have  been  talking  of  your 
sister's  face  ever  since  I  was  at  your  house.  She 
looked  like  your  guardian  angel,  as  she  sat  there 
outside  of  all  our  folly.  Is  she  as  peaceful  as  she 
looks  ? " 


152       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

"  If  she's  not,  she  means  that  I  shall  never 
know  it.  But  you  see  that  I  cannot  feel  sure  of 
my  time,  and  must  be  dropped  out  of  the  plan, 
sorry  as  I  am  to  give  up  and  be  given  up  by  you." 

"  Oh,  no ;  we  shall  not  hear  of  that,"  Mrs.  Har- 
rison said.  "  Of  course  you  cannot  promise  your 
house,  or  even  yourself;  but  I  hope  ail  will  go 
well,  and  at  least  you  will  come  to  us  until  your 
anxiety  begins." 

"  Oh,  no,"  Madge  tried  to  assert ;  "  indeed,  she 
was  not  to  be  counted  on  at  all." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  you  shall  promise  nothing ; 
only  don't  vow  beforehand  to  refuse  when  I  invite 
you  ;  that's  all  I  ask.  And  now  let  us  look  over 
Alicia's  list  and  see  if  we  have  a  kind  word  to  say 
for  any  of  the  condemned." 

It  did  occur  to  Madge  that  this  discussion  of 
their  circle  of  acquaintance  with  the  two  women 
of  whom  her  husband  disapproved,  was  not  car- 
rying out  his  wishes. 

"  But,  dear  me,  I  am  in  the  scrape.  Of  course 
he  would  not  wish  me  to  be  rude,  and  I  dare  say 
it  will  all  turn  out  quite  right.  What  a  pleasant 
thing  to  have  a  husband  like  Mr.  Harrison,  who 
always  thinks  his  wife  is  right  and  charming ! " 

If  the  kind,  gentlemanly,  dull  man,  who  seemed 
to  have  no  mission  in  society  except  as  a  back- 
ground to  Mrs.  Harrison,  ever  had  any  doubts  as 
to  her  perfection,  he  had  none  whatever  respect- 


THE    SELECT    FEW.  1 53 

ing  his  own  inability  to  convince  her  that  she  was 
ever  in  the  wrong.  He  had  long  ago  accepted  the 
humble  but  peaceful  position  which  she  offered 
him. 

"  I  do  not  quite  understand  about  your  list," 
Madge  said  ;  "  some  of  the  husbands  as  well  as 
wives  are  dropped  entirely,  and  others  with  an 
interrogation-mark,  as  if  their  existence  were 
doubtful.  You  ca./t  ignore  them  quite,  can 
you  ? " 

"  Why,  you  see,  Alicia  is  a  bold  woman,  and 
these  marks  mean,  I  believe,  necessary  and  un- 
necessary evils.  If  any  one  is  very  desirable,  in 
spite  of  their  having  the  ill  luck  to  be  harnessed 
to  a  bore,  she  thinks  that  by  the  judicious  use  of 
a  receipt  of  her  own  —  equal  parts  of  tact  and 
brass  —  we  can  manage  to  obtain  the  one  and 
drop  the  other." 

"  But  mustn't  you  at  least  ask  them  both," 
Madge  said,  "and  trust  to  luck  for  their  not 
coming  ? " 

"  Then  it  will  be  just  like  any  other  party. 
Bores  are  always  ready  to  jump  at  the  chance  of 
getting  some  one  to  help  them  through  an  even- 
ing ;  and  as  we  intend  to  keep  to  the  list,  it  would 
be  rather  worse  than  usual,  for  we  shall  not  have 
a  change." 

"Oh  dear,  no,"  Miss  Morris  said  ;  "there  is  no 
other  way  to  do  it.  One  or  two  stupid  people 


154       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

will  spoil  the  whole  thing  ;  sit  looking  like  mar- 
tyrs all  the  evening,  and  just  at  the  pleasantest 
moment  break  up  the  party.  Mr.  Archer  gave 
such  a  droll  account  of  dancing  with  that  pretty 
little  bride,  Mrs.  Keith,  the  other  night ;  sud- 
denly Mr.  Keith  appeared,  like  a  ghost,  behind 
her  chair,  and  from  the  depths  of  his  waistcoat 
came  a  most  singular  sound.  Mr.  Archer  was 
wondering  what  was  amiss  with  the  poor  man, 
when  Mrs.  Keith  said,  '  Oh,  will  you  excuse  me, 
for  I  think  I  must  get  you  to  finish  the  dance 
with  some  other  partner'  (and  that  dumpy  Miss 
Ellis  sitting  just  behind  waiting  to  seize  him). 
1  My  husband  has  called  me,  —  such  a  charming 
way  to  summon  me,  is  it  not  ?  He  sets  his  re- 
peater for  twelve  o'clock,  and  then  stands  where 
I  can  hear  it."  " 

"  Death  to  the  German  and  prosperity  to  the 
watchmakers,  if  that  sort  of  a  husband  is  allowed 
to  have  his  own  way.  Suppress  Mr.  Keith  by  all 
means,"  said  Mrs.  Harrison  ;  "  he  does  very  well 
when  you  want  to  make  up  an  intelligent-looking 
dinner-party  ;  he'll  improve  you  for  hours  at  a 
time,  but  he  has  the  effect  of  an  eclipse  at  an 
evening  party.  I  always  feel  as  if  the  lamps 
burned  low  when  he  is  talking  to  me." 

Mr.  Keith  was  one  of  Dr.  Howland's  intimate 
friends.  He  had  always  treated  Madge  with 
great  attention,  which  she  felt  to  be  a  special 


THE    SELECT    FEW.  155 

compliment  ;  but  she  dared  not  say  a  word  in  his 
favor.  And  she  began  to  appreciate  that  she  had 
placed  herself  in  a  more  awkward  position  than 
she  imagined,  and  one  which  would  hurt  her 
standing  with  her  new  friends.  Jack's  name  was 
on  the  list ;  why  his  there,  and  not  Mr.  Keith's  ? 

Mrs.  Harrison  spoke  as  if  in  answer  to  her 
thoughts :  "  Here  is  your  husband's  name,  you 
see,  though  I  suppose  there's  not  much  chance 
of  his  having  time  to  spare  for  us.  In  fact,  my 
dear,  the  only  possible  fault  I  have  to  find  with 
you  is  that  Dr.  Howland  has  given  up  all  the  rest 
of  us  since  he  belonged  to  you." 

"  And  such  a  partner  as  -he  was  ! "  said  Miss 
Morris.  "We  all  miss  him.  Gertrude,  you  never 
looked  as  well  dancing  with  any  one  else." 

"  It's  not  my  fault,"  Madge  answered,  with  just 
a  little  spasm  of  wonder  whether  there  could  be 
any  old  tender  association  which  made  Jack  not 
care  to  have  her  placed  in  contrast  with  Mrs. 
Harrison  ;  "  he  is  too  busy  and  too  tired  to  care 
for  dancing  nowadays." 

"  Ah,  well !  it's  the  way  of  husbands  ;  they 
dance,  or  they  sing,  or  they  talk,  as  the  case  may 
be  ;  and  we,  foolish  things,  think  they  mean  to  go 
on  entertaining  us  all  our  days." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  complain  of,"  Madge  said. 
"  I  did  not  know  what  a  waltz  was  except  by  name 
till  after  I  was  married  ;  and  I  do  not  think  I 


156  FROM    MADGE   TO    MARGARET. 

have  seen  my  husband  dance  a  dozen  times  in 
my  life.  I  believe  our  romancing  was  done  at 
picnics  ;  and  that  must  come  to  an  end,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"What  a  sigh  she  gives,"  said  Miss  Morris, 
with  a  little  superior  laugh,  which  made  Madge 
furious  with  herself  to  think  she  could  not  gain 
the  art  of  not  saying  what  she  meant.  "  But 
when  a  man  begins  to  pay  for  the  beef  and  mut- 
ton you  eat  at  home,  he  does  not  care  to  share 
the  salad  of  picnics  with  you ;  so  you  must  ex- 
pect to  leave  the  romancing  to  us  single  ones." 

"Beef  and  mutton  are  uncommonly  supporting 
to  old  age,  and  it  is  as  well  to  secure  them  early ; 
I  don't  at  all  see,  Alicia,  that  you  maidens  keep 
the  romancing  to  yourselves.  I  think  you  and  I, 
for  instance,  have  rather  an  entertaining  life,  Mrs. 
Rowland  ? " 

Miss  Morris  conned  her  list,  and  murmured 
over  names.  "  Mrs.  Ralstone,  is  she  an  inevita- 
ble ?  She  is  such  a  tedious  little  saint ! " 

"  Oh,  invite  her  by  all  means,  and  let  our  poor 
depraved  parties  have  the  reflected  credit  of  her. 
She  is  laid  up  at  home  with  a  sprained  ankle,  and 
very  much  hurt,  I  suppose,  because  George  has 
not  sprained  his  at  the  same  time.  If  she  is  a 
saint,  he  is  a  martyr  to  her  jealousy." 

"  Very  well,  then,  that  finishes  the  list ;  and  I 
think  it  approaches  as  nearly  to  being  a  commu- 


THE    SELECT    FEW.  157 

nity  without  a  bore  as  discrimination  can  make 
it.  What  a  pity  it  is  only  for  four  evenings  out  of 
a  lifetime ! " 

Madge  had  never  been  addicted  to  gossip  in 
her  younger  days,  either  from  a  naturally  re- 
fined nature,  or  as  a  result  of  the  months  spent 
every  year  in  a  society  more  cultivated  than  the 
people  about  her  ;  but  now  she  sat  listening  and 
much  amused  by  the  running  fire  of  comments 
on  all  their  acquaintance,  carried  on  by  her  com- 
panions. To  be  sure,  it  was  said  in  more  refined 
tones,  and  the  ill-nature  expressed  in  better  Eng- 
lish, but  the  matter  much  the  same,  if  she  had 
given  any  thought  to  it,  as  if  she  had  been  at  a 
Hartfield  sewing-circle.  There,  it  might  have 
been  :  —  "  Well !  I  never  see  anybody  so  pleased 
with  themselves  as 'Manda  was  last  Sabbath  when 
she  swept  down  the  aisle ;  she  looked  as  if  she'd 
put  all  the  religion  she'd  got  into  her  back- 
breadths,  and  was  setting  an  example  to  the  rest 
of  the  meeting-house.  Anybody'd  thought  she 
might  have  brought  Mr.  Price's  beautiful  remarks 
on  everlasting  punishment  home  to  herself ;  but 
I  believe  she  felt  more  peace  in  knowing  her 
gown  had  been  cut  by  a  New  York  dressmaker 
than  if  he'd  told  her  she  was  one  of  the  elect ! " 
Here,  it  was  :  —  "  Poor,  pretty,  little  Mrs.  Draper ! 
—  a  Worth  dress,  and  no  invitation  to  Mrs.  Og- 
den's  reception  !  Two  thousand  francs  would 


158  FROM    MADGE   TO    MARGARET. 

have  been  rather  clear  to  pay  for  the  privilege  of 
sharing  one  of  those  deadly  dull  occasions." 

"  Yes  ;  but  consider  that  the  alternative  was 
to  sit  at  home  and  be  adored  by  Mr.  Draper." 

And  mixed  with  it  was  a  dangerous  poison  for 
Madge  in  the  calm  acceptance  of  the  fact  that 
admiration  was  as  natural  an  element  in  the  life 
of  Mrs.  Harrison,  or  that  of  any  other  wife,  as  of 
a  woman  who  had  yet  to  choose  with  whom  to 
cast  her  lot. 

"  If  you  never  danced  with  your  husband,  and 
indeed  never  danced  before  you  knew  him,  where 
did  you  learn  to  waltz  as  if  you  were  born  to  it  ? " 
Miss  Morris  asked. 

It  was  rather  an  irritating  thing  for  her  to  be 
called  upon  to  praise  any  woman  ;  but  as  it  was 
the  fashion  to  admire  Mrs.  Rowland,  it  was  of  no 
use  for  her  to  stem  the  tide,  and  something  might 
be  won  by  making  herself  acceptable. 

"  Ah  !  it  was  Mr.  Forrester  who  brought  that 
about !  What  charming  mornings  those  were  at 
Nice,  in  that  great  drawing-room  of  yours  !  " 

"  Yes,"  Madge  said.  "  Is  there  any  place  of 
which  you  can  bring  back  the  feeling  more  than 
of  Nice ;  the  sun  and  the  sea,  and  the  flowers, 
and  even  the  hand-organs  ?  " 

"Yes,  and  the  sounds  and  the  scents  all  coming 
in  under  the  half-lifted  blinds  ;  and  our  handsome, 
sentimental  little  count  playing  waltzes  for  us. 


THE    SELECT    FEW.  159 

You  know  old  Mr.  Rowland  used  to  say  the  poor 
man's  safety  was  in  not  knowing  which  of  us  had 
hurt  him  the  most ;  but  there  was  no  doubt  about 
Mr.  Forrester." 

Madge  colored,  half  pleased,  half  annoyed. 
And  Miss  Morris  was  on  the  qui-vive\  for  Mr. 
Forrester  was,  she  thought,  the  very  most  suit- 
able match  for  herself  in  New  York  ;  and  slow  as 
he  had  proved  himself  in  looking  at  the  thing  in 
the  same  light,  she  did  not  yet  despair. 

"That  is  the  reason,  then,  that  Mr.  Forrester 
always  takes  such  a  personal  interest  in  your 
dancing.  You  certainly  do  him  great  credit." 

"  Not  at  all,  my  dear,"  Mrs.  Harrison  said,  mis- 
chievously. "  He  knows  very  well  that  Mrs.  How- 
land  danced  of  herself;  all  that  she  needed  was 
some  one  to  coax  her  to  take  the  first  turn.  Oh, 
no  !  it's  not  the  dancing  only  ! " 

Miss  Morris  sat  looking  a  trifle  crosser  than 
her  tact  generally  allowed  her  to  do  even  under 
trying  circumstances,  and  drawing  cabalistic  signs 
on  the  table-cloth,  perhaps  she  would  have  liked 
to  make  of  them  a  spell  to  destroy  some  of  the 
pretty  charm  which  she  flattered  herself  was 
what  blinded  Mr.  Forrester  to  the  superior  worth 
of  mind  and  manners  which  she  offered  him. 

"  You  will  have  to  make  your  peace  with  Mr. 
Forrester  as  to  giving  up  our  dances,"  Mrs. 
Harrison  went  on  to  say  ;  "  but  there  is  one  thing 


l6O       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

he  will  not  hear  of  your  refusing —  to  take  part  in 
some  theatricals  at  his  sister's  —  Mrs.  Murray, 
you  know.  I  told  him  what  a  success  you  had  in 
Nice.  There  is  just  the  part  for  you ;  and  you 
really  must  not  say  no." 

Madge  looked  excessively  pleased.  She  had 
taken  a  part  in  some  theatricals  in  Nice  given  for 
a  charity,  and  the  recollection  of  that  evening 
had  left  with  her  an  intense  desire  to  renew  the 
excitement  —  the  greatest  she  had  ever  known. 
The  applause,  the  admiration  afterwards,  seemed 
to  her  the  climax  of  girlish  dreams.  She  knew 
that  her  husband  had  not  been  overpleased  with 
her  delight,  or  his  father's  encouragement  of  it ; 
but  still,  perhaps,  if  she  managed  well,  he  might 
not  object. 

Mrs.  Harrison  was  quick  enough  to  divine  the 
pleasure  and  doubt  in  Madge's  face.  "  You  really 
cannot  refuse ;  the  theatricals  are  for  this  new 
Children's  Hospital,  in  which  your  husband  is 
interested.  Mrs.  Murray  is  one  of  the  managers  ; 
and  Mr.  Forrester  said  he  would  see  you  and  tell 
you  all  about  the  arrangements." 

Madge  expressed  and  looked  the  pleasure  that 
the  prospect  gave  her,  but  still  would  make  no 
promises  till  she  had  consulted  her  husband,  put- 
ting it  all  on  the  ground  of  her  sister's  health, 
but  saying  to  herself,  nevertheless,  that  this  she 
would  not  give  up,  if  it  were  possible  to  accom- 


THE    SELECT    FEW.  l6l 

plish  such  a  triumph,  though,  to  be  sure,  it  was 
not  easy  to  count  on  Jack's  whims,  where  his 
ideas  of  propriety  were  concerned. 

Rachel  enjoyed  the  concert  quite  as  much  as 
Madge  had  hoped  ;  more,  perhaps,  than  she  would 
have  done  if  the  sight  of  new  faces  and  surround- 
ings had  distracted  her  attention.  The  tones  in 
which  Beethoven  spoke  to  others  the  language  he 
could  not  hear,  penetrated  her  darkness,  bringing 
back  visions  of  beautiful  things,  real  now  only  in 
her  imagination.  She  could  not  quite  repress 
her  tears  ;  but  they  were  not  sad  ones,  —  rather 
of  thankfulness  for  a  new  pleasure.  Madge  felt 
this -as  she  put  her  hand  on  her  sister's,  and  had 
the  pressure  and  pleasant  smile  in  response. 
Their  seats  were  upon  the  outskirts,  a  little 
apart,  and,  in  an  interval  of  the  music,  Rachel 
heard  some  one  who  had  taken  a  place  close  be- 
hind them  address  her  sister.  It  was  Mr.  For- 
rester, and  though  Rachel  caught  only  scraps  of 
the  conversation,  she  brought  home  thoughts  of 
something  beside  the  music — something  which 
she  was  sorry  to  think  might  arouse  fresh  dis- 
cussion between  Madge  and  her  husband. 

"  You  have  been  lunching  with  Mrs.  Harrison," 
Mr.  Forrester  said,  as  he  sat  down  ;  "  how  go 
the  plans  for  reforming  society  ?  " 

"Very  successfully,  I  think;   but  it  is  to  be 
done  without  my  help." 
ii 


l62       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

"  Why,  I  thought  you  were  to  be  one  of  the 
Fates  to  decide  upon  the  survival  of  the  fittest." 

"  No  ;  I  shall  content  myself  with  being  one  of 
those  who  are  allowed  to  exist." 

"And  quite  right,"  Mr.  Forrester  said,  rather 
energetically.  "  Mrs.  Harrison  is  a  nice  creature, 
and  all  she  asks  is  to  have  her  own  way  ;  but 
Alicia  Morris  is  not  the  safest  friend  in  the  world 
for  you,  my  dear  Mrs.  Rowland.  No,  don't  look 
frightened.  She  does  not  like  you  less  than  any 
other  successful  young  person  ;  but  she  does  not 
like  you  any  the  better  for  having  money  and 
youth,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  blessings  which  the 
gods  give.  She  would  not  stand  by  you  if  any 
one  questioned  your  right  to  enjoy  yourself  in 
your  own  way  ;  but  she  would  use  you  to  get  any- 
thing she  wanted." 

"  And  she  always  seemed  so  kind  and  pleasant 
to  me." 

"  And  so  she  always  will  be,  if  you  hold  her  at 
arm's  length.  But  as  for  these  dances,  you  have 
shown  great  wisdom  in  only  allowing  yourself  to 
be  among  the  invited  ones,  for  I  meant  to  have 
turned  traitor  and  warned  you.  But  did  Mrs. 
Harrison  tell  you  of  my  plan  about  the  theatri- 
cals ? —  everything  that  is  safe,  and  charitable, 
and  charming  combined  ;  and  they  will  be  at  my 
sister's  house.  You  really  cannot  say  no  to  this." 

"  I  am  sure  I  do  not  want  to  say  no,  but  I  can- 


THE    SELECT    FEW.  163 

not  say  yes  on  the  spot.  I  must  speak  to  my 
husband." 

"  Oh,  Rowland  cannot  object ;  it  is  for  his 
hospital." 

Madge  thought  that  her  husband  was  much 
more  likely  to  endow  the  hospital  himself  than  let 
her  do  anything  of  which  he  disapproved,  but  said 
hopefully,  "  I  don't  very  much  fear  a  refusal.  And 
the  play,  is  it  chosen  ?  " 

"  Not  definitely  ;  but  it  is  one  of  two  or  three, 
all  charming.  I  shall  bring  them  to  read  with 
you." 

Rachel  asked,  on  the  way  home,  a  question  or 
two  as  to  what  she  had  heard.  She  thought  of 
her  sister's  acting  as  something  not  wrong,  but 
quite  impossible  for  any  one  born  and  bred  at 
a  Hartfield  farm-house.  Madge  laughed.  She 
had  acted  abroad  ;  it  was  the  greatest  fun  in  the 
world.  Jack  was  sure  not  to  object,  unless  he 
should  make  some  fuss  about  the  play  ;  he  was 
so  much  more  particular  than  other  people,  and 
found  harm  where  no  one  else  would. 

"  Perhaps  where  it  was  much  better  that  they 
should,"  Rachel  said. 

"  But  you  will  not  say  a  word,"  Madge  coaxed  ; 
"  there  is  everything  in  the  way  of  putting  things 
to  Jack.  I  don't  really  care  now.  I  have  thought 
it  over  about  those  dances,  so  it  is  just  as  well  ; 
but  I  might  have  managed  it  much  better  by  say- 


164  FROM    MADGE   TO    MARGARET. 

ing  nothing  at  all  about  excluding  his  dull  friends. 
It  was  that  made  him  think  it  dangerous.  Really, 
Rachel,  Jack  has  grown  so  old  and  solemn  this 
last  year  or  two  —  not  a  bit  what  he  used  to  be." 

"  Because  he  grows  so  much  more  interested 
in  his  work  than  in  your  gay  doings  ;  and,  Madge, 
don't  talk  about  managing  your  husband.  It's 
no  way  to  do  between  people  who  love  each  other. 
Tell  him  what  you  want,  and  if  he  sees  that  it's 
better  not,  why,  you  can't  wish  for  anything 
enough  to  make  it  worth  his  displeasure.  Just 
think  of  father  and  mother." 

"  Now,  Rachel,"  Madge  said  rather  impatiently, 
"  don't  be  so  old-fashioned,  or  I  cannot  talk  to 
you.  What  is  there  in  father's  and  mother's  life  to 
make  any  managing  necessary.  They  have  to 
decide  what  color  they  will  paint  the  barn,  or  how 
large  a  present  they  can  afford  to  give  the  minis- 
ter. They  always  think  just  alike,  and  so  there's 
nothing  to  talk  about.  But  with  Jack  and  me  it 
is  very  different  ;  for  you  see  how  he  goes  his 
way.  Mother  shares  the  care  of  father's  cows, 
and  naturally  has  an  interest  in  them  ;  but  I  can't 
set  the  legs  of  Jack's  patients,  and  so  I  find  my 
occupation  among  well  people.  Now  don't  look 
forlorn,  dear.  If  I  had  married  a  farmer  (I'm 
very  glad  I  didn't),  his  cows  and  pigs,  and  all  their 
trials,  should  have  been  mine.  You  ought  to  give 
me  credit  for  fitting  myself  to  the  troubles  of  a 
rich  man's  wife  as  well  as  I  do." 


MRS.    ROWLAND    IN    A    NEW    ROLE.  165 


CHAPTER   XI. 

MRS.    ROWLAND    IN    A    NEW    ROLE. 

MADGE  was  in  high  spirits  over  her  theatrical 
prospects  ;  said  she  was  sure  Jack  would  be  de- 
lighted to  have  her  help  in  any  way  towards  his 
hospital  ;  but  she  would  tell  him  all  about  it  her- 
self. If  Rachel  looked  forlorn,  it  was  no  more 
than  she  felt.  It  seemed  as  if  Madge  were  out 
of  reach  as  well  as  out  of  sight.  It  was  true 
enough,  what  had  there  been  in  the  experiences 
of  the  simple  home  life  to  make  her  able  to  assist 
her  sister,  or  even  understand  what  was  best  for 
her  to  do  ?  —  if  she  had  not  the  principle  in  her- 
self, who  was  to  help  her  ?  However  Madge  put 
the  theatrical  scheme  to  her  husband,  he  received 
it  favorably  ;  indeed,  was  quite  sympathetic  with 
her  pleasure.  It  was  all  to  be  undertaken  imme- 
diately, so  that  the  performance  would  be  over 
before  the  time  he  had  fixed  in  his  own  mind 
for  Rachel's  operation,  and  he  was  rather 
glad  to  have  some  plan  on  foot  which  would  in- 
terest both  sisters,  and  keep  them  from  dwelling 
on  the  anxiety  before  them. 


l66       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

The  play  had  been  decided  upon  :  a  pretty 
English  three-act  piece,  with  a  brunette  heroine 
for  Mrs.  Harrison,  a  blonde  one  for  Madge,  and 
an  older,  dignified  friend's  part  for  Miss  Morris. 
What  a  merciful  dispensation  it  would  have  been 
if,  with  the  vanishing  of  our  early  bloom,  could 
depart  also  all  desire  for  the  admiration  it  has 
received  ?  But,  alas  !  the  woman  who  still  feels 
the  youthful  glow  which  she  no  longer  excites,  is 
very  far  from  being  ready  to  fall  back  upon  the 
resources  which  any  compassionate  rosebud  would 
tell  her  is  all  that  is  left  for  her  in  this  world. 

"  Dear  me,  Alicia,"  Mrs.  Harrison  said,  "  I  do 
not  see  why  you  are  not  satisfied  ;  there  is  plen- 
ty of  chance  for  acting  ;  and  as  for  looks,  why, 
you  can  have  -as  handsome  clothes  as  you  like. 
There  is  nothing  at  all  frumpy  in  the  part,  and 
gray  hair  will  be  immensely  becoming  to  you." 

"  I  hope  it  may,  when  my  time  comes  ;  but  I  am 
not  anxious  to  have  it  arrive." 

_  "  Now,  do  you  know  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that. 
I'm  rather  envious  of  Mrs.  Graham  ;  she  is  no 
older  than  I,  and  her  white  hair  is  extremely  be- 
coming." 

"  It's  not  the  gray  hair  I  mind  ;  but  it  is  rather 
vexatious  to  see  you  so  pleased  to  take  up  this 
little  country  girl  and  give  her  my  place." 

"  Don't  you  mind  rather  more  the  fact  of  Mr. 
Forrester's  having  taken  up  the  little  country 


MRS.    ROWLAND    IN    A    NEW    ROLE.  1 67 

girl  ?  for  that's  what  it  really  is.  He  chose  '  The 
Two  Roses/  that  there  might  be  just  the  part  for 
her  and  for  himself.  Now,  my  dear,  let  me  give 
you  a  bit  of  advice.  Don't  waste  your  time 
over  Robert  Forrester.  He  has  no  idea  of  mar- 
rying you,  or  any  one  else  ;  but  he  does  like  the 
excitement  of  a  flirtation,  and  Mrs.  Howland  is 
safer  than  any  one  else,  —  she  is  such  an  innocent 
little  thing,  and  will  take  him  seriously  as  long  as 
he  wants  to  be  so,  and  would  not  know  enough  to 
bore  him  by  holding  him  to  an  intimacy  after  he 
had  tired  of  her." 

"  I  think  you  are  very  unkind,  Gertrude,"  her 
friend  said,  with  rather  a  trembling  voice.  "  You 
know  very  well  how  my  affairs  were  going  on  at 
Newport.  You  said  yourself  you  thought  Mr. 
Forrester  quite  seriously  interested  in  me,  and  I 
am  sure  it  would  have  come  to  something  before 
now,  if  it  had  not  been  for  Mrs.  Howland  ;  and, 
Gertrude,  it  really  seems  to  me  as  if  you  encour- 
aged her  in  thinking  he  admires  her." 

"And  I  have  been  flattering  myself  that  I  was 
obliging  you  by  covering  his  retreat  from  you 
gracefully,  and  letting  people  see  that  I,  as  your 
intimate  friend,  had  nothing  to  resent.  I  must 
say,  Alicia,  I  do  feel  rather  hurt  at  your  misun- 
derstanding me  so." 

All  which  meant  that  Mr.  Forrester,  being  a 
most  important  person  in  Mrs.  Harrison's  circle, 


168  FROM    MADGE   TO    MARGARET. 

she  was  anxious  to  have  him  known  as  intimate 
at  her  house  ;  and  when  his  attentions  to  her 
cousin  began  to  wane,  she  had  been  very  careful 
that  she  should  still  be  his  confidante,  and  her 
house  his  headquarters. 

All  went  smoothly,  till,  one  morning,  Mr. 
Forrester  appeared  at  Dr  Rowland's  long  be- 
fore visiting  hours,  and  when  Madge  went  down 
to  receive  him,  met  her  with  a  despairing  face, 
and  —  "  Mrs.  Rowland,  you  see  a  stage-man- 
ager reduced  to  the  last  extremities ! " 

"  Nothing  very  bad,  I  hope.  Has  not  the  new 
scenery  arrived  ? " 

"  Scenery,  and  no  actors.  The  fact  is,  we  have 
made  a  great  mistake  in  taking  too  many  members 
of  our  troupe  from  one  family,  and  we  are  all  plunged 
in  affliction  at  once.  I  shall  ask,  next  Sunday, 
that  a  theatrical  corps  may  have  the  prayers  of 
the  congregation  that  the  death  of  a  grandmother 
may  be  sanctified  to  them.  Old  Mrs.  Morton  is 
dead,  and  as  she  is  related  to  half  the  town,  she 
takes  with  her  —  not  into  the  grave,  but  quite  as 
much  out  of  our  reach  —  our  leading  lover,  our 
rich  old  uncle,  and  that  best  of  prompters,  Mrs. 
Welles,  who  has  promised  to  save  me  from  dis- 
gracing myself.  Why,  I  believe  that  even  little 
Dickey  Blake,  the  call-boy,  is  a  residuary  legatee, 
so  that  you  see  all  we  have  to  do  is  to  expend  what 
we  had  hoped  to  make,  on  a  supper  to  cheer  our 


MRS.    ROWLAND    IN    A    NEW    R^LE.  169 

spirits,  which  need  it  so  much  more  than  the  or- 
phans do  ;  that  is  to  say,  unless  —  " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Forrester,"  said  Madge  as  he  paused, 
"  do  you  really  mean  that  all  our  pleasant  times 
are  over  ?  Is  there  nothing  else  we  can  under- 
take ?  At  least,  the  rest  of  you  might  go  on  ;  for 
I  could  not  promise  for  any  time  later."  And  she 
looked  so  grieved  and  so  pretty,  with  the  color 
coming  into  her  cheeks  and  almost  tears  in  her 
eyes,  that  Mr.  Forrester  felt  more  determined 
than  ever  to  carry  the  point  for  which  he  had 
come. 

"  I  was  going  to  say  that  Mrs.  Harrison  and  I 
have  a  plan  which  we  think  will  be  quite  as  great 
a  success  as  the  other  ;  but  we  need  your  help  — 
let  me  tell  you  before  you  say  a  word.  There 
was  a  charming  play  which  half  a  dozen  of  us  got 
up  at  Newport  last  summer,  and  it  so  happens 
that  every  one  is  in  town  now  who  acted  in  it  ex- 
cept Miss  Granger,  and  her  part  would  suit  you 
to  perfection.  Yes,  I  know,"  in  answer  to  her 
look  of  objection,  "it  is  a  great  deal  to  ask  of 
you  to  learn  a  new  part  when  all  the  rest  of  us 
will  have  so  little  to  do  to  bring  back  ours ;  but 
we  cannot  start  for  a  new  play  without  you.  I 
shall  refuse  point-blank  ;  and  it  is  such  a  pity  to 
let  it  drop  now  we  have  gone  so  far  ;  the  cause  is 
such  a  good  one,  and  the  whole  thing  will  be  so 
pleasant." 


I/O       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

"  It's  not  the  trouble,"  Madge  said  ;  "  but  it 
seems  impossible  for  me  to  attempt  a  new  part. 
Just  this  one  happened  to  suit  me,  or  you  were 
all  good  enough  to  say  so  ;  but  there  could  not 
be  another  that  I  should  do  so  well  ;  and  alto- 
gether it's  better  not.  You  can  find  some  one 
else.  I  know  that  there  are  others  who  are  long- 
ing to  act." 

But  Mr.  Forrester  was  firm,  and  would  make 
her  at  least  listen.  His  part  was  very  much  with 
hers,  so  that  he  could  rehearse  with  her  whenever 
she  liked  ;  and  it  was  not  as  if  they  were  starting 
all  new  together,  and  one  held  back  another.  A 
couple  of  full  rehearsals  would  be  all  that  the  rest 
would  need  ;  the  dresses  and  scenery  of  the  other 
play  would  suit.  Every  objection,  in  short,  was 
smoothed  away  ;  and  then  out  of  his  pocket  came 
the  whole  play  and  her  part,  and  he  went  over  a 
few  sentences  with  her,  and  she  felt  the  spirit  of 
it  coming  to  her. 

"  Then  I  may  tell  Mrs.  Harrison  it  is  all  ar- 
ranged ?  You  will  go  over  your  part  to-day,  and 
to-morrow  morning  at  this  time  I  will  be  here  for 
a  little  rehearsal  between  ourselves,  and  then  we 
will  arrange  for  a  fuller  one  with  Mrs.  Harrison! 
She  will  be  so  relieved ;  for,  to  tell  you  the  truth, 
I  did  not  like  to  say  so  before  for  fear  of  over- 
urging  you  ;  but  it  really  all  did  depend  upon  you, 
because  one  or  two  of  our  most  important  actors 


MRS.    ROWLAND    IN    A    NEW    ROLE.  171 

are  going  off  to  the  South,  and  could  not  have 
acted  later  any  more  than  yourself."  And  this 
last  remark  being  an  invention  on  the  spot  did 
great  credit  to  his  acting  by  the  ease  with  which 
it  was  given. 

Madge  ran  up  stairs  all  excitement,  sorry  to 
give  up  the  first  play,  but  extremely  gratified 
that  her  assistance  should  be  of  so  much 'impor- 
tance. Her  husband  had  started  that  morning 
for  Baltimore  to  attend  the  meeting  of  a  medical 
society,  and  in  spite  of  the  differences  which,  after 
all,  interfered  far  more  seriously  with  his  happi- 
ness than  hers,  Madge  was  too  dependent  upon 
him  not  to  feel  rather  low-spirited  at  the  thought 
of  being  without  him  for  two  or  three  weeks. 
Now,  she  would  be  almost  too  busy  to  think  of 
Jack,  she  congratulated  herself ;  and  this  being  a 
stormy  day,  and  no  fear  of  interruptions,  she 
would  curl  up  on  the  sofa  in  Rachel's  room,  and 
give  herself  to  the  work  of  learning  the  new  part. 
With  the  quick  memory  of  youth  her  task  was 
not  a  difficult  one,  and  as  she  studied  it  grew 
upon  her,  and  she  could  see  how,  with  Mr.  For- 
rester's help,  she  could  master  the  difficulties,  and 
—  she  hoped  she  was  not  very  vain,  but  she  felt 
as  if  she  could  make  it  a  success.  I  do  not  mean 
to  represent  my  little  heroine  as  a  genius  of  whom 
matrimony  had  robbed  the  stage  ;  but  to  graceful 
prettiness  she  added  another  charm,  perhaps  the 


1/2       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

greatest  of  all :  a  voice  having  in  it  the  power  of 
expressing  all  the  shades  from  merriest  fun  to  a 
pathos  which  went  to  one's  very  heart  Madge 
was  still  a  little  thing  when  she  found  out  that 
there  was  a  certain  tone  which  was  almost  sure  to 
gain  all  she  wanted  from  David,  and  when  her 
father  had  wished  an  excuse  for  weakly  yielding, 
he  would  say,  "  Oh,  if  the  child  teased,  of  course 
I  should  not  do  what  she  wanted  ;  but  you  know, 
mother,  when  she  asks  in  that  dear  little  voice  —  " 
and  it  was  always  because  it  sounded  like  his  own 
mother,  or  sister,  or  brought  to  him  some  tone 
from  away  over  the  sea,  and  which  never  would 
come  into  his  life  again. 

What  was  the  plot  of  the  new  play  ?  Rachel 
asked.  Madge  did  not  know  yet.  She  would 
study  a  while  and  then  rest  herself  by  reading  it 
all  through.  When  she  did  read  it,  it  occurred 
to  her  that  her  husband  might  not  be  pleased 
with  the  change.  The  first  play  had  been  a 
pretty  love-story,  with  all  the  conventional  mis- 
understandings which,  on  the  stage,  lead  to  a 
life  of  bliss  ;  but  this  one  was  a  different  matter. 
There  was  not  a  coarse  word  from  one  end  to  the 
other.  Refined  people  expressed  their  feelings 
for  each  other  in  delicate  language  ;  and  yet  she 
could  not  help  questioning  what  her  husband 
might  say  as  to  her  helping  to  act  out  this  story 
which  dealt  with  the  sorrows  of  a  young  wife, 


MRS.    ROWLAND    IN    A    NEW    ROLE.  173 

who,  doubting  her  husband's  affection,  allowed 
his  intimate  friend  to  espouse  her  cause,  and  to 
make  it  too  nearly  his  own  for  his  happiness. 
The  tangled  skein  was  all  made  to  run  smooth 
and  clear  from  knots,  and  at  the  end  of  the  play 
the  curtain  fell  on  the  four  principal  characters, 
each  prepared  to  lead  forever  after  a  life  of  useful- 
ness and  virtue,  provided  nothing  more  tempting 
should  offer. 

Madge  read  it  through,  very  much  interested  in 
the  story,  making  notes  of  Mr.  Forrester's  sug- 
gestions, and  pleased  to  feel  herself  understand- 
ing them.  Then  she  laid  it  down  and  began  to 
think  what  Jack  would  say.  She  knew  very  well 
how  it  would  be  in  the  beginning  ;  but  she  should 
argue  with  him  ;  and  she  carried  on  a  little  con- 
versation in  her  own  mind.  "  Don't  you  see, 
Jack  dear,"  she  should  say,  "  it  was  really  impos- 
sible that  D'Harcourt  should  help  becoming  in- 
terested in  such  a  lovely  little  creature  ;  and  how 
true  she  was  to  her  husband  through  all  his  neg- 
lect." To  which  the  imaginary  Jack  should  have 
answered  :  "  Certainly  ;  I  see  that  they  were  all 
very  interesting  people,  and  I  think  your  part  will 
suit  you  perfectly."  But,  unluckily,  it  seemed 
much  more  natural  to  suppose  him  saying :  "  I  dare 
say  she  was  very  much  to  be  pitied  for  having  such 
a  brute  for  a  husband,  and  deserved  great  credit 
for  behaving  herself  respectably ;  but  I  should 


FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 


prefer  my  wife  not  to  take  part  in  such  a  doubtful 
story."  It  was  really  very  awkward,  she  thought. 
Of  course,  if  Jack  were  at  home  she  should  refer 
the  matter  to  him  at  once  ;  but  he  would  not  re- 
turn until  just  in  time  for  the  play  ;  and  to  write 
would  do  no  good,  for  there  was  not  a  day  to  lose. 
It  was  of  no  use  to  consult  Rachel,  who  would 
only  say,  "  If  there  is  any  risk  of  displeasing  Jack, 
give  it  up."  Mrs.  Lee?  —  but  Madge  was  becom- 
ing rather  touchy  about  Mrs.  Lee's  expressing 
any  opinion  at  all  concerning  her  affairs. 

To  do  Madge  justice,  facing  the  opposition 
which  her  refusal  to  act  would  have  brought  upon 
her  would  have  required  some  strength  of  mind 
—  seeming  to  be  ridiculous  prudery  in  the  eyes 
of  all  the  people  with  whom  she  had  to  deal  ;  and 
for  herself  it  was  a  disappointment  which  she 
could  rfot  contemplate.  No  wonder,  then,  if  she 
gradually  succeeded  in  convincing  herself  that 
her  scruples  were  quite  unnecessary.  Jack  would 
be  so  pleased  with  her  success  that  he  would 
forget  to  criticise  the  play,  especially  if  no  doubt 
were  excited  in  his  mind  first  by  being  called 
upon  to  decide  the  matter. 

Just  as  she  was  working  her  way  out  of  her 
indecision  came  a  note  from  Mrs.  Harrison,  all 
thanks  and  delight.  She  should  enjoy  acting  the 
play  again  herself  extremely  ;  and  Mr.  Forrester 
had  come  back  quite  enthusiastic  about  Madge's 


MRS.    ROWLAND    IN    A    NEW    ROLE.  1/5 

reading  of  the  bits  they  had  looked  over  together. 
So  the  matter  was  settled,  and  Madge  lay  back 
on  the  sofa  with  such  a  sigh  of  relief  that 
Rachel  asked  what  was  the  matter.  It  was 
only  that  she  was  rather  tired,  for  there  was 
a  good  deal  to  learn,  and  she  was  more  anxious 
than  ever  to  do  well,  as  the  others  were  all 
sure  of  their  parts.  Yes,  the  play  was  a  very  good 
one  ;  the  story  more  interesting  than  the  other  ; 
a  little  sad,  but  it  ended  well.  Her  part  was  that 
of  Mme.  Bertrand,  who  had  married  a  man  much 
older  than  herself,  very  kind  to  her,  but  rather 
neglectful.  Mrs.  Harrison  was  the  intimate  friend 
of  both  ;  Madge  was  going  to  have  said  the  hus- 
band's old  love,  but  thought  to  herself  it  would 
give  Rachel  an  unfair  idea  of  the  story.  M.  De- 
faure  —  that  was  Mr.  Forrester  —  was  also  a 
friend,  who,  seeing  that  she  was  unhappy,  and 
finding  out  the  cause,  undertook  to  win  her  hus- 
band back  to  her. 

"  I  should  think  that  was  taking  a  great  liber- 
ty," Rachel  said.  "  If  the  poor  little  wife  could  not 
manage  her  household  better  than  that,  she  must 
have  been  too  weak  to  keep  him  after  he  was 
brought  back." 

"  Well,  perhaps  so  ;  but  we  leave  them  all  good 
and  happy,  and  promising  never  to  do  so  any 
more.  I'm  not  responsible  for  my  Mme.  Ber- 
trand after  the  curtain  drops." 


FROM    MADGE   TO    MARGARET. 

"I  don't  know,  Madge.  I  suppose  I'm  very 
ignorant ;  but  I  feel  as  if  every  one  would  have 
you  mixed  up  with  these  French  people  in  their 
minds,  and  imagine  their  story  to  be  yours." 

"  Well,  if  they  did,  dear,  Mme.  Bertrand  is  a 
very  good  little  woman,  and  I  shall  do  my  best  to 
make  her  so  attractive  that  the  audience  will  wish 
that  I  \\^re  really  she,  and  want  a  great  deal  more 
of  me.  Please  not  to  worry,  Rachel  dear,  for 
really  I  don't  want  to  be  disrespectful.  But 
you  don't  know  about  things  of  this  kind,  and 
I  do." 

"  I  wish  I  knew  more,  for  your  sake,"  Rachel 
said,  feeling  very  helpless  as  she  thought  that  she 
only  knew  enough  to  make  her  anxious,  but  not 
enough  to  be  of  any  use  in  advising  Madge.  Oh, 
for  the  sight  which  would  make  her  feel  again  her 
natural  quick-witted  self  where  Madge  was  con- 
cerned ! 

The  rehearsals  went  on  with  wonderful  amia- 
bility for  private  theatricals.  The  time  was  too 
short  for  quarrelling,  and  moreover,  the  actors 
were  too  well  pleased  with  themselves  to  begrudge 
praise  to  each  other —  with  one  exception.  It  was 
hard  upon  Alicia  Morris  to  be  called  upon  to  act 
a  middle-aged,  jolly  part  with  gray  hair,  when 
convinced  that  as  a  pathetic  blonde  she  would 
not  have  left  a  dry  eye  in  the  house.  She  had  felt 
aggrieved  from  the  first  at  being  assigned  a  part 


MRS.    ROWLAND    IN    A    NEW    ROLE.  I// 

in  the  farce  ;  but  in  the  beginning  there  had  been 
also  the  character  in  the  longer  play  ;  and  though 
it  was  not  all  she  could  wish,  still  it  was  a  good 
part,  and  she  did  not  dare  to  find  any  fault,  at 
least  to  any  one  except  her  cousin  ;  for  she  would 
not  for  the  world  have  risked  the  opportunities 
given  her  of  meeting  Mr.  Forrester  so  constantly 
in  the  rehearsals.  Then  came  the  change  in  the 
plays,  and,  for  a  very  brief  period,  Alicia  thought 
her  chance  had  come.  At  Newport,  Miss  Gran- 
ger, who  acted  Mme.  Bertrand,  had  been  ill  for  a 
few  days,  and  Alicia  had  been  obliged  to  read  her 
part  at  rehearsals  ;  and  having  made  the  most  of 
her  time  in  the  fear  or  hope  of  Miss  Granger  not 
being  well  enough  to  act,  had  got  herself  so  well 
up  in  the  character,  that  when  it  was  proposed 
again,  she  was  quite  sure  she  should  be  the  hero- 
ine selected.  To  lose  this  opportunity  of  shin- 
ing, and  to  have  the  man  she  loved  prefer  to  act 
with  another  woman,  was  intolerable.  She  could 
not  deceive  herself  into  believing  that  he  cared 
for  her,  but  there  was  always  the  hope  that  when 
this  present  fancy  was  over,  he  might  come  back 
to  the  relations  which  had,  as  she  fancied,  existed 
between  them,  and,  alas  for  her  !  were  too  impor- 
tant to  her  happiness  to  be  broken  off  without  a 
struggle  for  their  possession.  She  knew  now 
that  it  was  not  the  fortune,  the  handsome  estab- 
lishment, or  the  English  dog-cart  and  thorough- 

12   . 


178       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

breds,  which  she  longed  to  possess  ;  it  was  the 
owner  of  these  things  she  would  win,  and  if  they 
had  all  disappeared  some  day  in  a  crash,  and  left 
him  a  poor  man,  it  would,  or  she  thought  it 
would,  have  made  no  difference. 

Judge,  then,  how  she  appreciated  the  success  of 
the  woman  who  was  taking  so  easily  the  position 
she  thought  would  have  given  her  all  she  wanted 
to  secure  her  end.  It  was  almost  hatred  with 
which  she  regarded  Madge,  so  pretty,  so  sweet 
in  all  her  ways,  even  to  her  ;  —  asking  her,  the 
woman  who  was  bitter  enough  in  her  jealousy  to 
have  destroyed  all  her  prettiness,  for  advice  how 
to  make  herself  more  charming  still !  Poor  little 
Madge,  thinking  herself  to  be  growing  so  learned 
in  the  ways  of  the  world,  she  had  not  the  com- 
monest weapons  with  which  to  defend  herself 
against  any  harm  that  might  come  to  her,  whether 
in  the  form  of  evil  wishes  or  still  more  dangerous 
kindness.  She  only  wanted  to  amuse  herself, 
and  be  loved  and  petted  by  every  one  about  her  ; 
and  though  she  did  sometimes  shrink  from  Miss 
Morris's  black  looks,  given  out  of  Mr.  Forrester's 
sight,  she  never  thought  of  fearing  any  danger  to 
her  happiness  in  the  admiration  of  the  others  ;  — 
was  not  Jack  her  husband  ?  —  though  not  so  in- 
dulgent to  her  little  faults  as  she  wished  he  would 
be,  still  the  man  of  all  the  world  to  her,  and  the 
one  she  most  wished  to  attract. 


MRS.    ROWLAND    IN    A    NEW    ROLE.  179 

To  Alicia's  dear  friend  Gertrude,  who  saw  all 
that  was  passing,  this  little  drama,  acting  itself 
out  almost  on  the  same  stage  with  the  other,  was 
quite  interesting.  It  was  like  one  of  those  scenes 
where  the  audience  is  allowed  to  see  what  is  going 
on  in  two  rooms  at  once,  and  as  Mrs.  Harrison 
was  of  a  romantic  turn,  it  pleased  her  fancy  to 
think  that  the  story  in  which  she  was  taking  a 
subordinate  part  had  as  much  interest  as  the  plot 
of  the  French  author's  imagining.  Mrs.  Harrison 
would  have  said  of  herself  that  she  had  a  very 
artistic  nature,  and  could  not  look  upon  things 
simply  in  a  practical  way  ;  so  she  grouped  herself 
and  her  friends  in  interesting  positions,  and  with 
a  deal  of  talk  about  sympathies  and  magnetism  — 
which  meant  nothing  at  all,  unless  it  were  that 
good  honest  love  counted  for  nothing  when 
temptation  came  —  did  all  the  harm  that  her 
means  would  allow.  The  readiest  form  of  mis- 
chief at  hand  at  this  moment  was  the  interest 
of  encouraging  Mr.  Forrester's  admiration  for 
Mrs.  Howland,  in  order  that  she  might  enjoy  the 
excitement  of  being  his  confidante. 

Alicia  had  added  to  her  chances  of  misery,  by 
offering  to  be  prompter  in  the  French  play,  with 
the  idea  that  if  she  could  not  act  with  Mr.  For- 
rester, she  should  at  least  see  all  that  was  pass- 
ing. And  watch  she  did  with  an  untiring  eye,  till 
Madge,  who  knew  nothing  of  the  secret  history 


ISO       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

acting  about  her,  began  to  have  an  uneasy  sense 
of  influences  near,  quite  beyond  her  small  powers 
of  charming.  Mr.  Forrester,  as  he  thanked  her  for 
her  untiring  attention  as  prompter,  .registered  a 
vow  that  never  again  should  ball  or  picnic,  or 
even  a  tete-a-tete  shipwreck  on  a  desert  island, 
draw  forth  from  him  a  single  attention  to  the 
poor,  disappointed  woman,  whose  watchfulness,  af- 
ter all,  was  partly  in  hope  of  learning  by  heart  some 
of  the  fascinations  which  Madge  lavished  so  care- 
lessly. A  few  small  rewards  she  had  in  the 
opportunities  given  her  of  administering  an  occa- 
sional pin-prick  to  Madge  in  the  shape  of  hints. 

"  You  will  excuse  me,  I  know,  Mrs.  Rowland," 
she  said,  "  if  I  suggest  a  little  difference  which 
Miss  Granger  made  in  acting  this.  Just  here, 
where  M.  Defaure  comes  to  you  and  says  that 
he  hopes  to  bring  you  back  your  husband,  Miss 
Granger  showed  her  sense  of  there  being  some- 
thing more  impressive  than  usual  in  his  manner, 
by  a  slight  shrinking  from  him.  But  you  —  it's 
only  an  idea  on  my  part,  you  know,  but  I 
thought  you  allowed  a  little  too  much  demonstra- 
tion from  him,  rather  more  than  was  quite  neces- 
sary." 

"  Oh,  I  hope  not,"  Madge  said,  looking  quite 
disturbed.  "  My  conception  of  Adele's  character 
was  that  she  should  show  her  unconsciousness, 
by  being  entirely  at  ease  with  him,  as  an  old 


MRS.    ROWLAND    IN    A    NEW    R^LE.  l8l 

friend,  until  it  comes  just  to  the  place  in  the  last 
act,  where  it  suddenly  flashes  upon  her.  I  think 
it  makes  the  feeling  so  much  more  marked  on 
her  part  to  have  it  come  in  one  burst  at  the  end. 
Oh,  no,  I  should  not  like  to  change  it,  because 
it  is  just  what  I  think  interesting  in  her,  that  she 
was  so  occupied  with  her  love  for  her  husband 
that  she  had  no  thought  for  any  one  else.  And 
yet,  if  you  say  that  Miss  Granger  had  a  different 
idea  —  " 

"  No,  no,  don't  let  me  interfere  with  you.  I  dare 
say  you  are  right,  and  that  the  audience  will  see 
it  just  as  you  do.  I  only  thought  that  there  was 
perhaps  just  a  little  too  much,  —  nothing  of  any 
great  consequence,  —  but  merely  that  a  little  less 
ease  of  manner  would  be  better."  And  Madge  was 
left  quite  as  uncomfortable  as  her  adviser  wished  ; 
but  Alicia  had  not  counted  on  the  simplicity  which 
should  betray  her  share  in  the  change  detected  by 
Mr.  Forrester  as  soon  as  they  came  to  the  passage 
in  question. 

"  Stop  one  moment,  please,  Mrs.  Rowland,"  he 
said  ;  "  you  are  doing  that  a  little  differently  to- 
night, and  I  was  not  prepared  for  it." 

Madge  hesitated,  and  said  that  she  would  like 
to  alter  it  a  little,  as  she  understood  that  Miss 
Granger  had  made  a  difference  here. 

"  Well,  if  she  did,  there  is  no  occasion  to  copy 
her  exactly.  I  thought  her  acting  very  satisfac- 


182       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

tory  at  the  time  ;  but  with  all  due  deference  to 
her,  I  think  you  have  shown  us  something  still 
better,  and  for  my  part  I  want  no  change.  How 
did  you  know  about  the  difference  between  Miss 
Granger's  idea  and  yours  ?  " 

"  Miss  Morris  was  kind  enough  to  give  me  a 
little  advice  about  it,"  Madge  said,  feeling  a  little 
scared  as  she  saw  the  two  frowning  faces. 

Mr.  Forrester  looked  as  if,  under  any  other  cir- 
cumstances, he  might  have  expressed  himself 
strongly.  Mrs.  Harrison  whispered  : 

"  Bless  you,  my  dear,  never  mind  Alicia  ;  she 
is  dying  to  have  the  part  herself.  She  has  learned 
it  all  by  heart,  in  hopes  she  may  have  a  chance 
given  her  to  act  it  in  the  next  world,  if  not  in  this. 
It's  not  in  human  nature  to  forgive  you  for  doing 
it  so  charmingly  ;  but  go  your  own  way.  I  should 
not  make  the  slightest  alteration  if  I  were  you." 

But  this  was  by-play,  and  interfered  in  no  way 
with  the  prospect  of  a  brilliant  end  to  their  pleas- 
ant toils.  If  Madge  had  enjoyed  her  first  expe- 
rience in  Nice,  infinitely  more  did  she  now,  when 
she  felt  herself  really  admitted  into  the  circle  which 
represented  to  her  all  that  was  most  agreeable  in 
her  world.  Sometimes  a  pang  of  anxiety  con- 
cerning Rachel  crossed  her  mind,  but  it  was  not 
in  her  nature  to  look  a  trouble  straight  in  the 
face  ;  and  this  one  she  could  honestly  say  was  so 
out  of  her  control  that  she  would  put  it  as  much 


MRS.    ROWLAND    IN    A    NEW    RC)LE.  183 

as  possible  out  of  her  mind  till  the  exact  time 
for  the  operation  was  settled  ;  indeed,  it  was  not 
a  hard  thing  for  her  to  do  in  the  atmosphere 
of  excitement  and  flattery  in  which  she  was 
living. 

Dr.  Rowland  reached  home  a  day  or  two  before 
the  plays,  —  not  quite  so  excited  over  the  great 
event  as  his  wife  thought  he  might  have  been. 
She  said  to  herself,  with  a  little  sigh,  that  Jack 
was  always  dreadfully  wise,  but  then  he  was  sure 
to  be  delighted  when  he  saw  her  on  the.  evening. 
It  was  not  vanity  to  believe  the  praises  which  she 
was  receiving  from  those  about  her,  and  he  must 
admire  her  more  than  these 'new  friends.  Her 
husband  really  did  his  best  to  give  her  sympathy ; 
but  it  seemed  to  him  almost  impossible  to  care 
for  anything  but  the  near  approach  of  the  opera- 
tion on  Rachel's  eyes,  nearer  even  than  he  had 
dared  to  tell  her  ;  for  it  would  take  place  now  in  a 
very  few  days.  A  surgeon,  on  whose  assistance 
he  relied,  would  be  in  New  York  at  this  time,  and 
they  had  agreed  that  it  was  better  not  to  defer 
it  any  longer.  It  might  be  as  well  to  let  Madge 
enjoy  herself  up  to  the  moment  ;  but  he  had  only 
the  one  thought  :  Rachel  had  grown  very  dear  to 
him  as  friend  and  sister,  and  though  he  had  every 
hope,  there  was  always  a  possibility  of  failure,  and 
he  had  room  for  no  other  real  interest  in  these  few 
clays,  —  not  even  in  his  pretty  wife's  success,  and 


184  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

he  would  much  rather  have  had  her  at  home  with 
himself. 

And  the  night  came.  There  was  to  be  a  final 
dress  rehearsal  in  the  afternoon,  and  as  Mrs. 
Murray  lived  at  a  distance,  Madge  was  to  drive 
with  Mrs.  Harrison,  her  husband  following  by 
himself,  and  they  would  return  together.  This 
gave  Dr.  Rowland  the  very  chance  he  wished  of 
a  quiet  talk  alone  with  Rachel  ;  for  he  knew  that 
she  would  not  wish  the  time  for  her  operation  to 
be  announced  to  her  hurriedly.  He  had  dreaded 
it ;  but  it  was  she  who  made  the  telling  quite  easy 
to  him  ;  for  as  they  sat  in  the  twilight  by  his  study 
fire,  she  said  : 

"  Is  not  the  time  very  near  now  when  you  can 
decide  what  may  be  done  for  my  eyes  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  Dr.  Summerson  will  be  here  this  week, 
and  I  see  no  reason  for  any  further  delay." 

"And  it  will  be  then  —  " 

"  In  two  days,  unless  you  feel  less  well,  or  have 
any  wish  to  wait." 

"  None  at  all  ;  it  is  a  great  relief  to  me.  I  am 
only  thankful  ;  and  now  that  there  will  be  no 
clashing  with  Madge's  enjoyments,  I  shall  be  so 
glad  to  have  it  over." 

There  were  a  few  questions  to  ask,  which  Dr. 
Howland  could  answer  favorably  ;  for  Dr.  Sum- 
merson's  opinion  had  been  very  satisfactory.  And 
then,  after  a  pause,  Dr.  Howland  said,: 


MRS.    HOWL  AND    IN    A    NEW    ROLE.  185 

"  And  Madge  ;  I  suppose  she  has  been  very 
busy,  and  full  of  excitement." 

"  Oh  yes,  and  very  happy.  I  fancy  everything 
has  gone  to  her  entire  satisfaction,  and  that  she 
will  be  lovely  to-night.  It  seems  very  queer  to 
me,  for  you  know  I  never  saw  the  inside  of  a  the- 
atre, so  that  I  cannot  even  imagine  her.  The- 
nearest  approach  which  I  can  make  to  it  is  to 
recollect  Helen  Lee  coming  up  to  Hartfield  after 
she  had  first  been  taken  to  a  theatre,  and  trying- 
to  make  us  understand  what  it  was  like  by  pin- 
ning up  shawls  in  a  stall  at  one  end  of  the  great 
barn.  We  chose  Cinderella  for  our  play,  because 
the  pumpkin  for  the  coach  was  lying  all  ready  for 
us.  How  it  all  comes  back  to  me !  and  Madge 
made  such  a  dear  little  Cinderella  sitting  on  a 
heap  of  corn-cobs,  which  we  called  ashes ;  and  she 
cried  so  naturally  when  she  could  not  go  to  the 
ball,  that  David  came  in  and  scolded  us  because 
he  thought  that  Helen  and  I  were  teasing  her." 

"  Well,  I  hope  she  will  not  have  her  head  turned 
with  it  all ;  but  I  must  go  and  look  after  her,"  he 
said,  rising,  "  though  I  think  I  would  rather  spend 
the  evening  by  the  fire  here." 

"Oh,  no  ;  you  will  be  delighted.  They  had  a 
rehearsal  here  once  for  my  benefit,  and  Madge's 
voice 'did  sound  very  lovely  ;  and  she  said  it  so 
naturally,  that,  when  she  .was  unhappy,  I  was 
goose  enough  to  cry,  too." 


1 86  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

"  How  did  you  like  the  change  in  the  play  ? " 
he  asked. 

"  In  the  other  they  did  not  go  down  into  the 
depths  so  much,  and  I  think  it  would  have  been 
much  more  amusing.  The  story  of  this  is  rather 
more  interesting  and  pathetic  ;  but  it  is  one  of 
those  tangles  which  worry  me  to  read  about.  I 
want  to  take  hold  of  the  threads  and  straighten 
them  out." 

"  Not  so  very  easy  to  do  in  or  out  of  a  book," 
he  said.  "  I  wish  she  were  not  involved  with 
Mrs.  Harrison  ;  but  perhaps  it  will  come  straight 
of  itself.  They  will  be  separated,  I  hope,  this 
summer,  and  perhaps  next  winter." 

"  By  next  winter  I  may  be  able  to  help,"  Rachel 
said. 

"  Oh,  you  can,  you  can,  I  am  sure,"  he  said, 
grasping  her  hands  so  earnestly  that  he  almost 
pained  her.  "  The  missing  of  your  care  has  been 
a  great  loss  to  Madge  and  to  me.  I  dare  to  say 
it  now,  when  I  have  so  much  hope  for  you." 

"  Give  me  my  eyes,"  she  said,  smiling,  though 
her  voice  trembled,  "  and  no  harm  shall  come  to 
Madge  that  I  can  prevent." 

When  Dr.  Hovvland  arrived  at  Mrs.  Murray's, 
the  first  play  had  not  begun  ;  but  the  little  the- 
atre looked  quite  full ;  and  as  neither  host  nor 
hostess  were  visible  at  the  moment,  he  took  the 
first  seat  which  was  in  sight,  not  caring  very 


MRS.    ROWLAND    IN    A    NEW    Rl^LE.  l8/ 

much  where  he  sat  until  later,  when  he  would 
find  the  Lees.  But  he  had  not  been  in  his  place 
long  before  finding  out  two  things:  first,  that  he 
could  not  move  without  disturbing  a  row  of  people 
who  had  come  in  after  him  ;  and,  secondly,  that 
he  was  not  in  a  friendly  atmosphere.  Two  ladies 
in  front  of  him  were  discussing  the  plays  and 
actors,  in  what  purported  to  be  undertones,  but 
the  voices  were  of  a  penetrating  quality,  and  as 
the  speakers  turned  toward  each  other  they  came 
just  in  the  range  of  his  ears. 

"  This  Mrs.  Rowland  is  very  pretty,  is  she 
not  ? "  one  said.  "  I  have  never  seen  her  be- 
fore." 

"  Quite  so,"  the  other  answered  ;  "  he  found  her 
somewhere  in  the  country  and  took  her  abroad  to 
train  her ;  so  Alicia  Morris  tells  me.  Mrs.  Har- 
rison has  taken  her  up  very  much  ;  but  Alicia 
says  she  is  a  very  willful  little  person,  and  is 
having  her  head  turned  very  fast.  Robert  For- 
rester is  very  attentive  to  her,  and  he  is  an  un- 
merciful flirt,  you  know." 

"  I  thought  I  heard,  when  I  was  abroad,  that 
he  was  very  attentive  to  Alicia  herself." 

"  He  certainly  was  ;  and  I  think  Alicia  likes 
him.  But  you  know  how  much  power  a  pretty 
married  woman  has  ;  and  Mrs.  Howland  has  quite 
taken  him  to  herself.  Why,  Alicia  says  that  the 
rehearsals  have  been  one  continuous  flirtation, 


1 88  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

and  she  really  thought  it  her  duty  to  advise  her 
to  be  a  little  less  tender  in  some  parts  ;  but  she 
said  she  could  not  possibly  alter  her  conception 
of  the  part.  I  only  hope  her  husband  will  look 
at  it  from  the  same  point  of  view." 

Dr.  Rowland  had  just  made  up  his  mind  that 
if  a  regiment  of  feet  were  in  his  way  he  should 
walk  over  them  sooner  than  remain  within  ear- 
shot of  such  unpleasant  neighbors  as  these,  when 
the  curtain  went  up,  and  there  seemed  no  danger 
of  hearing  anything  more  for  the  present.  The 
play  over,  he  rose  to  change  his  place,  and  some 
one  near  calling  his  name,  he  had  at  least  the 
savage  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  two  unconscious 
offenders  turn,  with  a  nervous  start,  and  to  hear 
an  agonized  whisper  of,  "  Oh !  do  you  think  he 
could  ? "  as  he  made  his  way  out. 

A  large  part  of  Dr.  Rowland's  life,  indeed  all 
of  it  which  had  been  spent  with  his  father,  had 
been  a  training  in  the  control  of  his  temper,  and 
it  was  very  rarely  that  he  felt  so  thoroughly 
ruffled  as  he  did  at  this  moment.  It  was  not 
with  his  wife  especially  that  he  was  vexed,  not 
more  than  with  himself,  and  with  circumstances 
out  of  his  control  except  by  taking  a  stand  in 
opposition  to  Madge,  which  he  would  avoid  if 
possible.  When  he  found  a  seat  by  Mrs.  Lee, 
there  was  on  his  face  a  grave,  even  vexed,  look, 
very  different  from  his  usual  bright  good-humor. 


MRS.    ROWLAND    IN    A    NEW    R^LE.  189 

"  You  have  only  just  arrived  ?  "  she  said. 

"  No  ;  I  wish  that  I  had.  I  have  been  sitting 
behind  two  spiteful  women,  and  feel  as  if  I  had 
broken  into  a  hornets'  nest." 

"  That's  a  pity,"  Mrs.  Lee  said  ;  "  for  we  have 
been  looking  for  you.  Helen  saw  Madge  for  a 
few  moments  behind  the  scenes,  and  she  asked 
her  to  keep  a  seat  for  you  ;  and  said,  too,  that  we 
were  not  to  sit  directly  under  her  eyes.  So  I 
think  that  this  is  just  the  place  for  her  and  for 
us." 

"  I  should  like  it  better  if  it  were  out  of  sight 
altogether,"  he  said,  so  moodily,  that  Mrs.  Lee 
felt  at  once  that  the  hornet  must  have  stung  in  a 
very  tender  place,  and  it  was  for  her  to  apply 
soothing  remedies.  She  asked  a  question  or  two 
about  his  visit  to  Baltimore,  which  he  answered 
in  rather  a  distrait  manner,  and  then  said  : 

"  Have  you  seen  any  of  the  rehearsals  of  this 
play,  Aunt  Fanny  ?  " 

"  I  have  not ;  but  Helen  went  to  your  house 
the  other  day,  and  happened  to  come  in  when 
they  were  acting  for  Rachel.  She  came  home 
charmed  with  Madge  ;  Rachel's  face  was  quite  a 
study,  she  said,  and  as  expressive  as  Madge's 
voice." 

"  They  are  a  lovely  pair  of  sisters,"  Jack  said, 
tenderly  ;  "  and  if  we  can  only  have  Rachel's  sight 
back,  she  will  be  an  immense  help  to  us  all." 


FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 


Mrs.  Lee  was  sorry  to  hear  an  acknowledg- 
ment of  any  help  being  wanted  by  the  young  hus- 
band and  wife,  but  she  only  said,  "  She  is  Madge's 
counterpart,  and  gives  her  just  the  balance  that 
such  a  bright  young  creature  wants  ;  neither 
could  do  without  the  other." 

He  assented,  thoughtfully,  but  looking  a  little 
comforted,  and  asked  : 

"  You  do  not  know  anything  about  this  play, 
then  ?  It  was  changed  after  I  went  away." 

"  Only  in  a  general  way,  that  it  was  acted  at 
Newport  last  summer,  and  very  successfully.  It 
is  a  translation  from  the  French." 

"French  morals  and  American  white-wash,  I 
suppose." 

"  No  ;  Mrs.  Murray  would  not  allow  anything 
objectionable  acted  in  her  house  ;  there  are  plenty 
of  nice  French  plays,  if  one  knows  where  to  look, 
and  this  will  be  one  of  them.  You  must  not  be- 
gin by  being  determined  to  be  critical,  my  dear 
boy,  or  you  will  not  enjoy  Madge's  success  ;  and 
she  will  be  terribly  disappointed  if  you  are  not 
pleased.  She  was  fidgeting  because  you  had 
not  arrived.  I  hope  she  will  catch  sight  of  you 
before  long." 

"  Dear  little  woman,"  her  husband  said,  and 
then  the  orchestra  began  to  play  the  final  strains 
of  the  "  Morgenblatter,"  and  every  one  settled 
themselves  in  their  seats. 


MRS.    ROWLAND    IN    A    NEW    R6LE.  IQI 

There  was  nothing  at  all  that  even  Jack's  sen- 
sitive vision  could  find  to  criticise  in  the  first 
act,  certainly  not  in  Madge's  part.  She  was  a 
sweet  young  wife,  very  anxious  to  please  her  hus- 
band, vaguely  descrying  her  own  lack  of  power, 
and  loving  the  false  friend  who  was  stealing  him 
from  her ;  and  when  the  curtain  went  down  he 
could  receive  very  cordially  the  congratulations 
of  friends  about  them,  and  write  an  affectionate 
word  or  two  on  a  twisted  scrap  of  paper,  which 
he  sent  to  Madge  by  .some  messenger  to  the 
green-room.  But  as  some  one  behind  them  said, 
enthusiastically,  "  Did  you  ever  see  anything  bet- 
ter than  Mrs.  Harrison,  she  acts  so  naturally  ? " 
he  growled  in  an  aside  to  Mrs.  Lee,  "  Yes  ;  acted 
to  the  very  life.  Aunt  Fanny,  I  hope  that  woman 
is  not  contagious.  I  cannot  bear  to  see  Madge 
in  her  atmosphere." 

"  Let  her  breathe  as  little  of  it  as  you  can,  and 
help  her  to  like  a  better  one.  Remember,  my 
dear,  she  does  not  know  this  life  as  well  as  you  do, 
and  you  must  take  the  charge  of  her  on  yourself." 

Mrs.  Lee  heard  the  involuntary  sigh  ;  but,  then, 
who  should  do  it  if  he  did  not  ?  It  would  have 
been  of  no  use  to  tell  him  in  the  beginning  that 
he  was  taking  a  very  heavy  responsibility  ;  but, 
in  justice  to  Madge,  she  must  not  be  left  now  to 
walk  in  unknown  ways  alone. 

The  play  went  on  increasing  in  interest,  and 


IQ2       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

really  sufficiently  well  acted  to  make  the  audience 
forget  their  familiarity  with  the  actors  far  more 
than  is  usual  in  private  theatricals.  As  it  was 
not  the  first  performance,  they  were  sufficiently 
at  ease  to  throw  themselves  into  their  parts,  and 
Dr.  Rowland  found  himself  almost  forgetting 
that  he  was  watching  his  own  wife,  while  sympa- 
thizing with  the  sorrows  of  Mme.  Bertrand.  Even 
the  ill-natured  comments  he  had  heard  passed 
out  of  his  mind,  till  suddenly  recalled  in  the 
progress  of  the  play,  and  then  he  said  to  himself 
that  he  thought  he  should  not  have  criticised  the 
same  thing  in  any  other  woman.  The  -question 
was,  did  he  wish  his  wife  to  place  herself  before 
an  audience  at  all,  giving  the  right  to  others  to 
discuss  her  and  any  mistakes  of  judgment  which 
she  might  make  ?  But  from  that  wide  view  of 
the  subject  he  shrank,  feeling  that  this  evening's 
applause  was  a  poor  preparation  for  making  Madge 
look  at  it  in  the  light  he  wished.  As  for  Mrs. 
Harrison,  her  part  was,  he  thought,  peculiarly 
fitted  to  her ;  a  woman  who  would  struggle  for 
admiration  till  the  day  of  her  death,  without  a 
thought  of  sparing  the  happiness  of  any  life  which 
stood  between  her  and  her  vanity.  He  had 
known  her  very  thoroughly  in  former  days,  and 
knew  quite  well  how  much,  or  rather  how  little, 
faith  was  to  be  put  in  her.  Mrs.  Lee  was  very 
glad  to  see  him  looking  like  himself  again  when 


MRS.    ROWLAND    IN    A    NEW    RC>LE.  193 

the  play  was  over,  and  as  if  he  would  not  be- 
grudge his  wife  sympathy  in  her  little  triumph ; 
but  as  they  came  out  of  the  theatre,  and  in  a  dim 
corner  stood  blocked  for  a  few  moments  by  the 
crowd,  a  scrap  of  conversation  struck  his  ear  be- 
tween two  men. 

"  Bob  Forrester  acted  his  part  con  amore ;  they 
say  he  is  quite  taken  off  his  feet  by  that  little 
beauty." 

"  It's  always  some  one.  He  helps  a  woman 
over  a  mud-puddle  as  if  he  were  saving  her  life, 
and  they  all  believe  in  him.  I  should  like  to  know 
his  trickv" 

Back  came  the  cloud  again,  and  he  had  to  set 
his  teeth  and  remember  that  this  was  no  time  to 
show  annoyance,  whatever  he  might  feel ;  indeed, 
Madge's  smile  of  delight  was  very  pleasant  to  see 
as  he  joined  her  and  answered  her  questioning 
look  with  one  of  congratulation  and  pride  ;  he 
could  not  deny  her  that.  It  was  all  that  she  had 
imagined  it,  this  evening  of  success  and  flattery. 
The  gayest  and  pleasantest  of  her  little  world 
offering  congratulations  and  compliments  till  no 
wonder  if  the  pretty  head  whirled  with  the  fumes 
of  the  incense  burned  before  it.  Whatever  Dr. 
Rowland's  judgment  of  Mrs.  Harrison  might  be, 
as  a  vain  and  worldly  woman,  she  could  be,  when 
she  pleased,  a  very  charming  companion ;  and  just 
now  it  did  please  her  to  be  known  as  the  friend 


194       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

who  had  brought  to  light  this  new  and  (until  she 
had  drawn  the  curtain)  unknown  beairy. 

Madge  was  so  far  too  absolutely  simple  to  think 
of  herself  as  having  any  pretensions  to  rivalry  with 
a  person  of  Mrs.  Harrison's  position,  and  in  her 
ignorance  of  the  world  was  quite  ready  to  stand 
second  at  her  friend's  bidding.  To  her  husband, 
longing  to  have  her  away  from  all  this,  the  .gay 
supper,  with  its  flatteries  and  jests  and  lingering 
over  the  triumphs  of  the  evening,  seemed  inter- 
minable ;  but  Madge  could  not  bear  to  have  an 
end  come  to  what  she  thought  the  most  delight- 
,ful  experience  of  her  whole  life. 

"  You  have  learned  one  great  duty  of  a  hus- 
band :  to  stand  in  a  doorway  and  look  patient," 
Mrs.  Harrison  said,  laughing,  as  she  came  up  to 
him  where  he  was  waiting  with  his  wife's  last 
wraps  over  his  arm,  and,  if  he  looked  patient,  cer- 
tainly not  feeling  so. 

"  I  was  just  wondering,"  he  answered,  l<  if  my 
duty  at  present  was  not  to  be  severe,  and  carry 
off  my  charge  with  a  firm  hand.  Are  not  you  all 
tired  to  death  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  am  not,  and  I  can  answer  for  Mrs. 
Howland.  We  shall  be  dreadfully  tired  to-mor- 
row if  you  should  want  anything  of  us,  but  now 
we  could  go  on  forever.  But  why  hurry  her  off? 
do  let  her  have  the  last  moment  of  it  ;  one  does 
not  have  perfect  evenings  so  very  often  in  one's 


MRS.    ROWLAND    IN    A    NEW    RO^LE.  IQ5 

life."  Then  with  a  little  look  of  malice  :  "  It's 
not  so  very  long  ago,  Dr.  Rowland,  that  you  bore 
a  grudge  against  the  husbands  and  fathers  who 
appear  at  midnight  in  the  doorways.  I  remem- 
ber, if  you  don't,  some  evenings  which  we  were 
very  sorry  to  have  come  to  an  end." 

"  I  won't  deny  that  they  were  very  pleasant,  and 
I  dare  say  I  wished  as  much  evil  to  the  impatient 
husbands  as  any  of  the  rest ;  but  now,  you  see,  I 
must  stand  by  my  order.  And  then  we  have 
not  all  the  gift  of  everlasting  youth,  Mrs.  Har- 
rison." 

She  looked  more  annoyance  than  she  generally 
allowed  herself  to  express,  and  said  :  "  I  do  not 
know  that  I  thank  you  especially  for  your  com- 
pliment, but  I  will  generously  return  it  with  a 
piece  of  advice  ':  not  to  curb  that  pretty  wife  of 
yours  too  tight.  If  you  have  done  with  the 
world,  she  has  just  begun,  and  she  is  not  going 
to  settle  down  by  the  fireside  with  you  quite 
yet  —  look  at  her,"  —  as  Madge  came  down  the 
wide  staircase,  wrapped  in  her  white  cloak,  hands 
laden  with  flowers,  and  face  bright  and  eager  in 
its  young  loveliness,  as  she  answered  back  to  the 
gay  compliments  of  the  group  with  her.  Jack 
said  hurriedly,  scarce  knowing  what  were  the 
words  he  used  : 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  then,  don't  teach  her  the 
ways  of  your  world,  or  you'll  spoil  as  sweet  a 


196  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

creature  as  was  ever  made  ;  "  and  he  went  for- 
ward to  give  her  his  arm  and  carry  her  away. 

At  last  the  carriage-door  shut,  and  as  they 
whirled  off  into  the  darkness  Madge  threw  her- 
self back  with  a  long  breath  and  "  What  an  en- 
chanting evening  it  has  been  ! "  In  another 
moment,  and  as  he  was  thinking  how  should  he 
begin  with  some  of  his  calming  words  to  bring 
her  back  to  a  quieter  mood,  she  put  her  hand  in 
his  and  said  : 

"  Now,  Jack,  for  the  best  of  all,  tell  me  you 
were  really  a  little  proud  of  me." 

He  gave  the  caress  she  wanted,  and  said  : 

"  Not  more  proud  of  my  wife  than  I  always  am." 

"  Ah,  but  say  something  real  to  me,  Jack  —  I 
don't  want  a  common  compliment,  such  as  every 
one  else  has  been  giving  me.  Was  I  acting  as 
well  as  I  tried  to  do  ?  and  did  it  please  you  ?  Tell 
me  truly." 

"  Then,  darling,  you  acted  so  well  that  it  took 
me  by  surprise  ;  and  as  to  the  rest,  if  you  want 
the  truth,  I  don't  know  that  it  did  please  me  so 
very  much  to  see  you  placed  in  a  position  which 
a  couple  of  hundred  people  had  a  right  to  discuss 
and  criticise/' 

"  But,  Jack  dear,  I  don't  understand  ;  did  any 
one  say  unkind  things  ?  Why,  I  think  every  one 
I  knew  in  the  room  came  to  tell  me  how  charm- 
ing it  was.  What  did  you  hear  ?  " 


MRS.    ROWLAND    IN    A    NEW    R^LE.  197 

"  No  one  could  say  anything  to  me,  whatever 
they  thought ;  but  of  course  we  know  that  among 
all  those  people  there  must  have  been  some  to 
make  remarks  we  should  not  have  liked  to  hear, 
just  as  I  felt  at  liberty  to  discuss  others  ;  and 
don't  you  see,  dear,  that  that  is  a  liberty  I  do  not 
wish  to  give  to  any  one  else  where  my  wife  is 
concerned  ? " 

"  No,  Jack,  I  don't  know  that  I  ,do  see  what 
harm  it  does,  so  long  as  we  do  not  hear  the  dis- 
agreeable things.  Oh  dear,"  she  sighed,  "  it  is 
just  the  old  story.  I  cannot  take  such  high  and 
mighty  views  of  things  as  you  do ;  and  there  you 
are  up  in  the  clouds,  and  I  am  having  such  a 
lovely  time  on  the  earth  and  want  you  with  me." 

He  felt  that  it  was  rather  hard  on  her  to  expect 
her  to  be  rational  just  at  this  moment  of  tri- 
umph, and  to  deny  her  the  happiness  of  having 
the  praises  which  were  ringing  in  her  ears  re- 
peated by  the  lips  she  loved  best ;  for  that  he 
did  believe,  and  he  could  not  resist  the  wish  to 
make  her  happy  and  say  all  that  satisfied  even 
her  eager  love.  But  presently  she  came  back  to 
the  subject. 

"  You  did  not  speak  about  these  objections  to 
my  acting  when  it  was  first  proposed.  Before 
you  went  away  I  thought  you  liked  my  doing 
it." 

"  Yes,  dear,  before  I  went  away  ;  but  this  is  a 


198  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

very  different  sort  of  play,  and  if  I  had  been  at 
home  I  should  have  said  so." 

"  Oh,  but,  Jack,"  she  said  hurriedly,  "  there  really 
was  no  time  to  write  to  you  ;  they  said  they  could 
not  act  without  me,  and  it  seemed  so  disobliging 
to  refuse."  Out  came  all  the  reasons  pell-mell, 
and  not  at  all  in  the  convincing  way  in  which  she 
meant  to  have  put  them. 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  know  it  was  a  hard  position,  and 
I'm  not  blaming  you  ;  only  another  time,  if  there 
is  a  doubt,  give  me  the  benefit  and  take  my 
standard  instead  of  Mrs.  Harrison's." 

"  Poor  Mrs.  Harrison  !  "  Madge  said,  glad  to 
change  her  ground  ;  "  what  a  bugbear  you  make 
of  her,  and  I  think  her  so  charming." 

"  I've  no  doubt  you  do  ;  and  she  is  charming  in 
society,  but  not  a  good  intimate  friend  for  a  young 
inexperienced  woman." 

"  I  wonder  if  you  will  ever  think  I've  grown  up  ; 
but  I  am  inexperienced,  of  course,  and  that  is  just 
why  it  is  so  pleasant  to  have  her  willing  to  be  my 
friend.  I  can't  tell  you  how  kind  she  has  been  to 
me  since  we  have  been  so  much  together  lately. 
Why,  if  she  were  a  man,  Jack,  I  should  think  you 
were  jealous  of  her." 

"  Don't  joke  about  such  things,  Margaret,"  he 
said,  almost  sharply.  "  Jealousy  between  us  is  sim- 
ply too  foolish  and  disagreeable  to  speak  of.  My 
one  objection  to  Mrs.  Harrison  is  that  she  is  the 


MRS.    HOWL  AND    IN    A    NEW    R6LE.  199 

last  woman  in  the  world  whom  I  want  my  wife  to 
be  like." 

Madge's  cheeks  glowed  in  the  dark  with  vexa- 
tion ;  but  what  was  the  use  of  setting  up  a  dis- 
pute about  this  matter  in  which  she  was  quite 
determined  to  have  her  own  way.  Too  many 
plans  had  been  made  for  the  coming  spring  and 
summer  (all  to  include  the  theatrical  coterie)  for 
her  to  contemplate  the  possibility  of  dropping, 
or  being  dropped  by,  her  friend.  But  then  quar- 
relling was  as  distasteful  to  her  as  any  other 
ugly  or  displeasing  thing,  and  her  husband  would 
be  far  less  likely  to  think  the  friendship  a  dan- 
gerous one  if  she  did  not  seem  too  eager  for  it. 
So  she  dropped  the  discussion  of  Mrs.  Harrison 
for  the  pleasanter  subject  of  her  own  share  of 
the  enjoyments  ;  and  the  rest  of  the  drive  was 
taken  up  with  telling  all  that  had  passed  in  her 
husband's  absence:  —  the  fun,  the  little  contre- 
temps, her  doubts  of  success,  and  the  praise  of 
herself  which  she  was  proud  to  tell  him,  —  all  so 
prettily  and  gaily  told,  that  by  the  time  they 
reached  their  own  door  he  had,  for  the  time,  for- 
gotten everything  but  his  delight  in  her,  and  he 
lifted  her  from  the  carriage  with  —  as  she  whis- 
pered back  to  him  —  the  crowning  compliment 
of  the  evening. 

It  might  have  been  better  for  Madge  if  the 
course  of  events  had  gone  straight  on,  bringing 


2OO       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

the  disputed  matter  of  her  intimacy  to  a  crisis  and 
to  be  settled  once  for  all.  But  the  next  few  weeks 
turned  her  life  and  thoughts  in  such  a  different 
direction  that  her  late  excitements  subsided  into 
a  vague,  pleasant  memory  of  something  not  be- 
longing to  her  real  self  ;  and  she  was  so  thor- 
oughly engrossed  in  anxious  love  for  her  sister, 
such  a  tender,  unselfish,  wise  little  nurse,  that  her 
husband  quite  forgot  that  there  had  ever  been 
any  clashing  of  interests  between  them,  except 
when  it  sometimes  occurred  to  him  as  a  cause  of 
congratulation  how  much  he  had  his  wife  to  him- 
self in  these  days.  For  light  had  come  to  the 
darkened  eyes  they  both  loved  so  well,  —  slowly, 
through  days  of  anxiety,  but  surely,  so  that  it 
was  no  longer  a  hope,  but  a  certainty,  that  Rachel 
would  see  again  when  the  time  came  to  remove 
the  bandages. 

The  happiness  of  the  household  seemed  to  im- 
part itself  to  all  their  circle.  As  Rachel  said,  if 
she  had  been  at  home  among  Hartfield  people  she 
could  not  have  had  more  kindness  and  sympathy. 
There  it  would  have  expressed  itself  in  pies  and 
cake,  which  would  have  been  wasted  on  her. 
Now  her  room  was  kept  filled  with  flowers.  Mr. 
Forrester  sent  baskets  of  violets  and  hyacinths 
and  lilies  of  the  valley,  —  all  directed  for  Mrs. 
Rowland's  sister,  not  for  her,  as  Madge  made  her 
observe. 


MRS.    ROWLAND    IN    A    NEW    ROLE.  201 

When  he  went  away,  after  the  five  minute  in- 
terviews of  inquiry  which  he  succeeded  in  ob- 
taining, he  said  :  "  I  thought  our  little  friend  was 
fascinating  enough  when  she  was  listening  to  me 
with  interest ;  but  she  is  irresistible  now  that  she 
pays  me  no  attention  at  all,  and  looks  out  of  those 
great  brown  eyes,  and  wants  nothing  of  me  but 
my  sympathy  for  her  sister." 


2O2       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

MADGE    ANDERSON    AGAIN. 

BY  the  time  the  last  snow-drift  had  melted 
from  underneath  the  fences,  and  the  grass  was 
beginning  to  grow  green  and  soft  for  the  eyes  to 
rest  upon, — eyes  which  had  known  it  only  in 
memory  for  such  a  weary  time,  —  Rachel  went 
back  to  the  dear  old  home  where  she  was  to  be- 
gin the  new  life,  of  which  every  day  would  be  a 
service  of  thanksgiving. 

The  day  of  Rachel's  departure  was- an  agitating 
one  for  all.  The  weeks  of  tender  care  which 
Madge  had  given  her  sister  almost  seemed  to 
reverse  their  usual  relations  toward  each  other, 
and  it  was  hard  to  believe  that  Rachel  was  really 
able  to  do  without  her.  Mr.  Anderson  had  come 
to  take  Rachel  home,  but  Dr.  Rowland  said  he 
would  at  least  go  a  part  of  the  way  if  it  were  only 
to  set  Madge's  heart  more  at  ease  in  saying  good- 
bye. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  he  returned, 
bringing  most  satisfactory  accounts  of  Rachel 
half-way  home.  He  found  Madge  sitting  by  his 


MADGE    ANDERSON    AGAIN.  2O3 

study  fire  ;  and  though  her  greeting  was  loving 
as  heart  could  wish,  it  was,  for  her,  a  very  quiet 
one,  so  that  when  he  had  settled  himself  in  his 
easy-chair  with  her  by  his  side,  he  turned  to  look 
at  her  a  little  questioningly.  He  was  afraid  she 
was  tired,  he  said.  She  should  have  rested,  as  he 
had  told  her. 

"  And  that  is  just  what  I  have  been  doing. 
Helen  Lee  came  after  you  had  gone,  and  was  the 
most  comfortable  companion  I  could  have  had. 
No  ;  I'm  not  at  all  tired,  but  I  have  been  thinking 
—  an  unusual  exertion  for  me,"  she  said,  with  rather 
a  tearful  smile,  —  "  thinking  how  grateful  I  am  to 
you,  —  of  what  you  have  done  for  us  all." 

"  I  hope  that  you  include  me,  dear,  when  you 
say  '  us.'  Rachel  is  a  dear  sister  to  me ;  and  I 
am  as  thankful  as  you  can  be  for  the  blessing  of 
her  sight." 

"  It  seems  almost  too  much,"  she  began  ;  but 
the  tears  would  come.  Her  head  was  resting 
against  his  high  chair,  and  he  caressed  her  ten- 
derly, and  sat  stroking  the  hand  she  had  laid  on 
his,  but  without  speaking,  till  she  went  on  : 

"  It  really  is  almost  too  much  for  one  foolish 
little  woman  to  have  two  such  friends  as  you  and 
Rachel.  You  must  not  think  I  am  selfish  to 
be  talking  about  myself  to-night.  No  ;  let  me 
speak,  Jack.  I  have  been  sitting  here  thinking 
about  mother,  and  how  beautiful  Rachel's  coming 


2O4       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

back  to  her  well  and  happy  would  be ;  and  then  I 
thought  of  you,  and  what  a  home  you  have  made 
here.  And  do  you  know,  I  think  I  am  the  only 
blot  on  it  all." 

Her  husband  sat  too  surprised  to  speak  at 
once  ;  but  when  he  began  with  "  my  dearest 
child,"  scarcely  knowing  how  to  treat  such  an  ex- 
traordinary phase  in  her* she  interrupted  him  : 

"  There's  nothing  for  you  to  say,  Jack,  for  you 
know  this  as  well  as  I  do.  That  is  to  say,  you 
know  it  always,  and  I  feel  it  once  in  a  while. 
Yes,"  — putting  up  her  hand  to  stop  him,  —  "  let 
me  say  it  all  now.  I'm  not  sure  that  I  want 
you  to  answer  me,  but  I  do  want  you  to  know 
what  I  feel.  Sometimes  when  I  am  discour- 
aged, as  I  am  to-night,  it  seems  to  me  that  no 
woman  could  well  be  less  of  a  companion  than  I 
am  for  such  a  man  as  you." 

She  drew  herself  impulsively  away,  and  turning 
looked  at  him,  with  her  hands  clasped  tightly  on 
her  lap,  as  if  she  were  awaiting  her  sentence.  He 
did  not  try  to  bring  her  back  ;  he  only  returned 
her  look  with  a  smile,  which  seemed  to  Madge  at 
this  moment  all  that  her  heart  asked,  and  said  : 

"  Do  you  know  that  you  could  not  say  that  if 
you  were  really  afraid  of  my  having  any  but  the 
one  answer  to  make  you  ?  Why,  Margaret,  my 
wife,  my  blessing,  what  can  any  man  want  more 
than  the  one  woman  in  the  world  whom  he  loves 
as  I  do  you  ? " 


MADGE    ANDERSON    AGAIN.  2O5 

She  moved  back  to  her  place,  and  with  a  long 
sigh  of  relief  rested  her  head  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Now  that  we  have  spoken,  I  do  want  to  say 
one  or  two  things,  dear,  not  of  blame,  my  child," 
—  for  she  looked  up  again  with  a  troubled  face,  — 
"  but  of  what  I  think  has  made  our  life  less 
smooth  than  it  might  have  been.  Most  husbands 
and  wives  begin  with  about  an  equal  knowledge 
of  the  world  ;  but  you,  dear,  had  it  all  to  learn,  so 
that  my  ten  years  in  advance  are  almost  doubled. 
Why,  sometimes  I  feel  as  if  I  were  altogether  too 
old  for  you  ;  as  if  I  hadn't  it  in  me  to  give  you  the 
sympathy  you  ought  to  have  in  all  your  pleasure.' 

"  Oh,  Jack,  to  imagine  my  wanting  anything 
more  than  you  give  me.  But  that  is  so  like  you, 
to  wish  to  take  the  burden  on  yourself.  No,  you 
can't  do  it ;  you  must  take  me  for  what  I  am." 

The  last  weeks  had  been  so  delightful  that  her 
present  mood  surprised  her  husband ;  he  had 
been  thinking  of  her  as  if  the  only  change  he 
could  have  wished  in  her  had  come.  Her  train 
of  thought  followed  his,  and  she  answered  as  if  to 
his  unspoken  words  : 

"  We  have  been  very  happy  lately  in  spite  of 
the  anxiety  about  Rachel,  —  happier  than  I  have 
been  all  winter.  I  suppose  you  will  think  when 
I  say  so,  that  it  is  a  sure  sign  everything  will  go 
right  now.  But  I  don't  know,  or,  rather,  I  do 
know  about  myself,  and  what  a  trifle  it  takes  to 


2O6       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

carry  me  away.  Jack  dear,"  —  with  a  heavy  sigh, 
—  "I  think  I  am  very  fond  of  being  praised. 
Now,  there's  a  confession." 

"And  it  shows  such  a  depth  of  wisdom,"  he 
said,  "  that  I  ought  to  feel  quite  easy  about  you. 
Perhaps  you  don't  care  for  praise  more  than 
other  women,  but  in  one  way  or  another  you 
have  had  a  good  deal  of  it  in  your  life,  and  you 
don't  like  the  process  of  finding  fault  with  your- 
self, —  is  not  that  it  ?  " 

She  sat  looking  so  thoughtfully  into  the  fire, 
that  he  waited  for  her  to  speak.  At  length, — 
"  I  wonder,"  she  said,  "  if  it  was  well  for  me  to 
begin  with  having  your  father  to  pet  me  and 
praise  me  for  everything  as  he  used  to  do.  But 
I  did  love  him,  and  he  was  so  kind  to  me 
always." 

"And  I  was  very  grateful  to  him  for  it.  You 
are  right,  dear,  it  was  not  the  best  way  to  help 
you  to  understand  yourself  in  the  beginning, 
where  everything  was  so  new  ;  but  we  will  not  go 
back  to  that  now.  He  did  love  you,  and  you 
made  those  last  years  very  different  from  what 
they  would  have  been  to  -him  without  you.  No, 
don't  let  us  talk  about  what  is  over.  Here  we 
are  together  now  ;  you  and  I,  and  the  boy  ;  and 
it  seems  to  me  as  if  no  home  should  be  happier 
than  ours.  But  one  thing  I  want  to  say  for  my- 
self, Margaret :  I  am  a  busy  man,  with  work  that 


MADGE    ANDERSON    AGAIN.  2O/ 

engrosses  me,  perhaps,  more  than  it  ought  ;  but  I 
never  mean  that  it  should  exclude  you.  You 
must  tell  me  if  it  does  ;  never1  imagine  for  one 
moment  that  you  are  not  part  of  my  very  life." 

Madge  fell  asleep  that  night,  feeling  as  if  the 
battle  were  over  and  won.  How  could  she  ever 
want  more  than  the  love  her  husband  offered 
her ;  ever  be  less  ready  than  at  this  moment  to 
give  him  all  her  time  and  thought. 

Fortune  favored  Madge  in  the  fact  that  there 
was  for  a  while  a  scattering  of  her  gay  friends. 
Lent  had  brought  a  diminution  of  gayety,  and 
proportionate  increase  in  the  delicate  throats 
which  required  change  to  Washington  and  Flor- 
ida, so  that  it  was  as  if  Madge's  life  had  suddenly 
turned  into  an  entirely  new  channel.  She  had 
been  won  back  to  her  old  affectionate  relations 
with  the  Lees  by  their  devotion  to  Rachel  in  her 
recovery  ;  indeed,  they  were  the  only  friends  of 
whom  she  had  seen  very  much  of  late.  She 
really  believed  for  the  moment  that  she  had  tired 
of  amusement,  and  that  this  new  experience  of 
living  entirely  for  her  husband,  almost  for  the 
first  time  since  their  marriage,  would  last  for- 
ever. 

Helen  Lee  said  to  her  mother  next  day,  "  I 
think  Jack's  wife  is  the  strangest  combination 
I  ever  knew.  All  the  winter  she  has  seemed  to 
me  just  a  mere  society  woman,  except  when  she 


2O8       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

was  alone  with  Rachel ;  then  she  was  always  sweet 
and  charming ;  but  now  I  feel  as  if  Madge  An- 
derson had  come  back.  What  has  brought  about 
the  change  ? " 

"Never  mind  what  has  done  it,"  her  mother 
answered  ;  "  encourage  the  Anderson  element  as 
much  as  you  possibly  can.  The  child  will  come 
out  all  right ;  her  mother's  daughter  could  not  be 
at  heart  anything  but  the  best  This  winter 
would  have  been  a  trying  test  for  any  one." 

"  Yes  ;  who  would  have  thought  of  her  in  old 
times  as  being  the  fashion  here  in  New  York." 

"  Not  so  very  wonderful.  Beauty  and  money 
are  a  very  strong  partnership.  And,  then,  Madge 
had  always  a  tact  which  made  her  quite  ready  to 
fit  herself  to  the  people  she  was  with." 

"  And  I  wish  it  was  a  different  set  here, 
mamma." 

"  You  can't  help  that,  my  dear  ;  though  we  will 
keep  her  with  us  as  much  as  we  can.  You  are 
going  out  with  her  this  morning,  are  you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  and  I  don't  know  what  she  will  say 
when  she  knows  where  I  am  going  to  take  her. 
We  were  going  to  buy  a  quantity  of  calico  to 
make  into  charity  work.  She  called  it  a  burnt- 
offering  to  Jack  ;  and  said  she  was  sure  it  must 
be  good  for  her,  because  she  so  hated  to  begin  to 
prick  her  fingers  again.  But  I  find  that  I  must 
go  to  the  hospital  this  morning.  I  wish  she 


MADGE    ANDERSON    AGAIN.  2OQ 

would  go  with  me  ;  but  I  am  afraid  she  will 
not.  She  has  never  been  there,  even  to  please 
her  husband." 

"  Well,  don't  urge  her.  She  is  going  to  be  a 
helpmate  to  Jack  one  of  these  days  ;  all  in  good 
time.  What  takes  you  there  this  morning  ?  " 

"  A  message  about  my  poor  little  Jimmy  Burns 
—  the  child  who  was  run  over  ;  he  is  not  going 
on  so  well." 

Madge  was  ready  to  go  with  Helen  to  the  hos- 
pital, very  much  interested  in  the  child  ;  still 
more  in  the  thought  of  telling  her  husband  where 
she  had  been,  when  they  met  at  dinner.  Helen 
steered  her  successfully  through  the  long  cor- 
ridors, meeting  none  of  the  horrors  which  Madge 
dreaded  at  every  turn,  only  white-capped  and 
aproned  nurses,  or  a  physician  at  the  head  of  a 
band  of  students,  all  looking  eager  and  alert. 
Madge  said  she  did  not  think  she  should  be 
afraid  to  come  by  herself  some  time. 

"  You  will  always  find  it  as  quiet  at  this  hour," 
Helen  said  ;  "  I  dare  say  you  will  learn  to  like  it. 
I  feel  quite  at  home  in  this  part  of  the  hospital, 
and  there  is  always  something  definite  to  do  in  the 
way  of  help.  Your  duty  is  there  before  your  eyes." 

"  How  dreadful !  "  Madge  said,  laughing  ;  "  and 
you  must  either  do  it,  or  hate  yourself  forever 
after.  I'm  afraid  I  am  neither  good  enough  nor 
bad  enough  to  be  comfortable,  either  way." 


2IO  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

The  child  they  had  come  to  see  was  at  the  end 
of  the  ward  lined  with  cots,  and  Madge  lingered 
on  the  way  with  pretty,  kind  words  and  a  kiss  to 
some  of  the  little  creatures  who  held  out  their 
arms,  with  a  call  to  "  the  lady "  to  stop.  But 
when  they  reached  the  bed  where  the  white 
figure  lay  supported  by  pillows,  Helen  wished 
she  had  come  alone.  By  the  bed  sat  the  mother, 
a  forlorn-looking  woman,  crumpled  up  in  an  old 
shawl  and  hood,  and  with  hands  wrinkled  from 
the  wash-tub,  folding  and  re-folding  themselves 
nervously  in  her  lap.  Of  tears  she  seemed  to 
have  none  left  to  shed,  but  her  voice  sounded  as 
if  they  were  dropping  within. 

"  Wuss  ever  so  much,  they  tells  me,  ma'am,"  in 
answer  to  Helen's  whispered  question.  "  I  was 
sent  for  a  while  ago.  Will  it  be  long,  do  you 
think  ?  There's  the  others  waiting  for  me  to 
home." 

A  very  little  while  now,  it  seemed  to  Helen, 
but  as  the  child  looked  at  Madge,  his  eyes  bright- 
ened. To  her,  every  little  child  meant  her  Phil ; 
and  as  she  sat  down  by  him,  with  sweet,  motherly 
face,  so  full  of  pity,  his  hand  dropped  on  the  fur 
of  her  sleeve  —  too  feeble  to  stroke  it,  but  pleased 
with  its  softness,  and  the  glimmer  of  a  smile  was 
reflected  on  his  mother's  face. 

"  How  did  it  happen  to  the  poor  little  dear  ? " 
Madge  said. 


MADGE    ANDERSON    AGAIN.  211 

"  When  he  was  waitin'  round  the  door  ;  they  all 
has  to  wait  if  I'm  out  a-washin'  —  and  it  was  awful 
cold,  and  runnin'  to  keep  warm,  I  suppose  he  fell 
in  front  of  the  hosses.  I'd  just  come  when  they 
took  him  up ;  maybe  it  wouldn't  have  been  if  I 
could  have  come  quicker  —  "  The  lips  quivered 
too  much  to  finish  with  the  possible  chance  that 
it  might  have  been  helped,  —  that  last  intolerable 
touch  to  all  sorrow. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  they  must  wait  in 
the  cold  till  you  come  home  ?  " 

"  Yes'm  ;  some  lets  'em  stay  round  the  stove, 
but  I'm  more  afraid  of  the  fire  than  the  streets ; 
and  the  coal  wouldn't  last  neither  for  all  day." 

Madge's  face  flushed.  Here  was  something 
which  might  be  helped  ;  but  she  would  not  add 
to  the  mother's  suffering  now  by  telling  her  of 
assistance  which  had  come  perhaps  too  late  to 
save  this  child  for  her,  —  for  him  it  seemed  peace- 
ful to  think  that  such  a  life  was  nearly  over.  One 
little  arm  lay  across  something  hidden  by  the  bed- 
clothes. 

"  What  have  you  cuddled  up,  dear  ?  "  she  said, 
thinking  that  he  was  fondling  some  toy. 

"  It'll  last  till  mammy  comes  ;  doctor  said  so," 
fre  whispered. 

"  What  ?  "  Madge's  eyes  asked  the  mother. 

"  Oh,  ma'am,"  she  said,  rocking  herself  back- 
ward and  forward,  "  he  was  the  one  missed  me 


212  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

the  most.  He  ain't,  to  say,  just  like  the  oth- 
ers, —  more  delicate  like,  —  and  he'd  a  notion 
that  I'd  be  along  to  heaven  soon  after  him,  and 
he  said,  could  he  only  take  some  supper  with  him 
to  last  till  I  came." 

She  laid  her  face  in  the  pillow,  out  of  her  child's 
sight.  Jimmy  stirred  a  bit  of  the  sheet,  and  there 
lay  a  parcel  tied  in  a  handkerchief;  close  by  a 
battered  tin  horse." 

"  Polly,  nex'  door,  sent  the  horse,"  the  little  fel- 
low said,  with  a  feeble  chuckle.  "  Doctor  give  me 
the  ^ankercher,  so  I  could  carry  it  easy.  He  said 
it  wan't  no  use,  'cos  there's  lots  of  everything 
there.  I  wished  they  was  all  comin',  if  there  is. 
Just  like  the  'scursion  party,  I  s'pose.  Everybody'll 
be  kind  ;  that's  heaven,  doctor  says." 

His  voice  trailed  off  into  silence,  and  the  head 
of  soft  brown  curls  turned  a  little  to  one  side. 
Madge  leaned  forward  to  look  at  the  little  way- 
farer's bundle,  —  a  cambric  handkerchief,  and  in 
the  corner  a  monogram,  J.  H.  She  looked  across 
to  Helen  through  her  tears,  and  saw  her  glance 
up,  as  if  at  some  one  coming,  and  as  Madge  turned, 
her  husband's  hand  was  laid  on  her  shoulder. 

"  Is  he  asleep  ?  "  she  said. 

"  There  will  be  no  more  suffering  now  ; "  and 
he  led  her  away  in  answer  to  Helen's  whisper 
that  she  would  stay  to  quiet  the  poor  mother's 
outburst,  which  might  have  its  way  now. 


MADGE    ANDERSON    AGAIN. 


Dr.  Rowland  came  to  Mrs.  Lee's  that  evening, 
and  as  he  sat  down  by  her,  his  aunt  thought  he 
looked  more  like  the  cheery  Jack  Rowland  of  a 
few  years  ago  than  she  had  seen  him  since  his 
return. 

"  I  wanted  to  thank  you,  Helen,  for  taking  care 
of  Margaret  to-day.  You  do  not  know  how  glad 
I  was  to  see  her  sitting  there  with  you.  I  could 
scarcely  believe  my  eyes  as  I  came  down  the 
ward." 

"  I  am  delighted  to  hear  you  say  so,"  Helen 
said  ;  "  for  I  did  not  know  what  you  would  think 
of  my  bringing  her  to  such  a  scene.  I  had  no 
idea  that  the  child  was  so  ill  when  I  went." 

"  It  is  much  better  for  every  one  to  learn  how 
that  dismal  other  half  of  the  world  lives.  I  knew 
that  Margaret  would  take  kindly  to  helping  if  she 
ever  knew  how  much  was  needed.  I  found  her 
and  Phil  making  plans  for  the  most  demoralizing 
charity,  and  intending  to  support  the  Burns  fam- 
ily in  luxury  all  their  days.  She  had  told  the 
little  chap  the  whole  story,  and  it  was  pretty  to 
see  him  and  his  mother  holding  to  one  another 
to-night,  as  if  she  were  going  off  to  work  to- 
morrow at  dawn." 

He  laughed,  but  his  eyes  glistened  at  the  re- 
membrance. 

"  Poverty  is  such  a  different  matter  in  the  coun- 
try, that  this  is  all  new  to  her,"  Helen  said  ;  "  it 


214       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

is  one  of  the  delights  of  Hartfield  not  to  have  the 
door-bell  and  your  sympathies  pulled  at  every  five 
minutes.  I  suppose  Madge  imagines  all  that  Mrs. 
Burns  needs  is  to  have  her  present  worries  tided 
over,  and  does  not  think  of  her  as  working  for 
the  mere  privilege  of  keeping  body  and  soul  to- 
gether." 

"  Yes,"  said  her  mother  ;  "  but  you  can  prevent 
Mrs.  Burns  being  cold  and  hungry,  and  you 
can't  prevent  our  poor  Mrs.  White  making  her- 
self unhappy  by  thinking  if  her  children  only 
had  their  rights  they  would  be  something  very 
high  up  in  the  world." 

"Well,  my  dear  little  woman  does  not  trouble 
herself  with  trying  to  account  for  anything.  Her 
present  object  is  to  form  herself  into  a  society  for 
preventing  any  more  children  being  run  over  in 
the  streets.  She  said  just  now  that  she  wished 
it  were  not  necessary  to  go  out  of  town  this  sum- 
mer, she  was  sure  there  must  be  so  much  to  be 
done  here.  She  will  come  to-morrow,  Helen,  and 
hopes  you  will  be  able  to  go  out  with  her  on  an 
expedition  to  hunt  up  Mrs.  Burns." 

"  I  have  found  out  about  her  to-day,"  Helen 
said,  "  and  if  Madge  can  help  her  to  get  work  it 
is  all  she  will  ask." 

"  Madge  will  be  much  disappointed  if  there  is 
not  a  great  deal  more  than  that  for  her  to  do.  I 
shall  leave  her  to  you  to  advise  ;  you  will  tell  her 


MADGE    ANDERSON    AGAIN. 


what  is  best  to  be  done,  and  I  shall  be  immensely 
obliged  to  you  if  you  can  show  her  how  to  do  it. 
She  has  so  much  unoccupied  time  now  that  Ra- 
chel has  gone,"  he  said,  turning  to  his  aunt.  A 
letter  had  come  from  Hartfield,  and  the  Lees  were 
full  of  interest  to  hear. 

"  Nothing  could  have  gone  better  than  the 
whole  case  from  beginning  to  end,"  he  said  ; 
"  but  for  a  while  it  was  a  tremendous  weight  to 
carry.  I  scarcely  know  myself  without  all  this 
care  on  my  mind.  I  rather  wish  it  were  time 
to  go  out  of  town.  I  would  like  to  get  away 
somewhere  and  stretch  myself.  I  think  I  feel 
like  Phil  at  the  end  of  a  rainy  day." 

"  Well,  leave  Phil  with  us  ;  we  will  take  the 
best  of  care  of  him,  and  you  can  go  off  with 
Madge  for  a  holiday." 

"  You  are  very  good  ;  but  I  do  not  know  what 
she  would  say  to  being  parted  from  her  boy. 
Indeed,  I  doubt  if  I  should  enjoy  anything  so 
much  as  home  just  now,  it  has  been  such  a  busy 
winter  for  us  all." 

"  Where  do  you  go  for  the  summer  ?  "  Mrs. 
Lee  asked. 

"  Part  of  the  time  at  Hartfield,  of  course.  I 
do  not  think  Margaret  has  quite  decided  what 
she  wants  to  do." 

"  Why  not  divide  the  summer  between  us  and 
the  farm-house  ?  We  should  all  be  delighted  to 
have  you." 


2l6       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

"  And  I  can  imagine  nothing  pleasanter  for  us. 
Don't  make  the  offer  unless  you  really  mean  it. 
It  would  suit  both  of  us  to  perfection." 

Helen  joined  heartily  in  her  mother's  proposi- 
tion ;  but  when  Dr.  Rowland  had  gone,  she  said  : 
"  It's  very  charming  to  talk  about  having  them 
with  us,  but  I  doubt  if  it  will  happen  for  all  that. 
I  have  heard  Madge  making  her  plans,  and  they 
did  not  mean  Hartfield  for  the  whole  summer  by 
any  means." 

When  Dr.  Rowland  went  home,  he  repeated 
the  invitation  to  his  wife,  and  she  answered 
warmly,  "  How  delightful  and  how  kind  of  them 
to  ask  us !  We  will  certainly  go  after  we  have 
done  the  other  things  we  planned."  Dr.  How- 
land  looked  interrogatively. 

"  I  mean  going  to  West  Point  in  June.  You 
know  I  told  you  of  the  party  who  had  planned  to 
go  all  at  the  same  time  ;  and  then  I  thought  that 
I  should  like  to  see  Newport  for  a  little  while." 

Dr.  Howland  began  with  an  "  I  doubt  —  "  but 
thought  better  of  it  for  that  moment  ;  and 
Madge  bringing  out  a  list  of  what  she  thought 
the  most  pressing  wants  of  the  Burns  family, 
—  a  heterogeneous  one,  as  Phil  had  helped  to 
make  it,  and  had  headed  the  paper  with  a  contribu- 
tion of  a  tortoise-shell  kitten  two  days  old,  — 
the  plans  for  the  summer  were  quite  forgotten  in 
the  evening  spent  together  so  happily. 


MADGE    ANDERSON    AGAIN. 


The  spring  was  a  late  one  this  year.  Milliners 
bewailed  the  money  and  imagination  spent  in  de- 
vising lovely  new  fashions,  when  every  one  was 
still  wearing  velvets  and  furs.  Indeed,  the 
weather  and  influenza  were  quite  sufficient  cap- 
ital in  the  way  of  conversation  to  start  any  one 
on  a  daily  round  of  kettle-drums.  Suddenly  up 
went  the  thermometer,  home  came  the  flight  of 
society  birds,  and  a  new  era  of  spring  clothing 
and  gayety  began. 

One  morning  Helen  Lee  stood  by  the  window 
thoughtfully  tearing  a  note  into  scraps,  and  in 
answer  to  a  question  from  her  mother,  said  : 

"  Only  a  line  from  Madge,  to  say  that  she 
cannot  go  with  me  this  afternoon  to  the  opening 
of  the  artists'  exhibition,  if  to-morrow  will  do  as 
well.  She  is  going  to  see  Mrs.  Harrison,  who 
has  just  returned." 

"  And  will  not  to-morrow  do  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  But  I  am  sorry  to  hear  of  Mrs. 
Harrison  back  again  ;  I  had  almost  forgotten  her 
existence.  Madge  has  been  so  much  nicer,  and 
happier  too,  I  think,  without  her." 

And  Madge,  sitting  in  Mrs.  Harrison's  pretty 
drawing-room,  with  agreeable  people  coming  and 
going,  thought  on  her  side  that  she  had  forgotten 
how  charming  they  all  were. 

"  What  a  fair-weather  friend  you  are  !  "  she 
said  to  Robert  Forrester,  as  he  came  to  sit  by 


218        FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

her  ;  "  you  have  been  living  in  summer,  while  we 
were  freezing  and  thawing.  As  soon  as  the  sun 
shines,  you  come  back." 

"  But  I  come  with  delightful  plans  for  next 
year.  We  must  make  up  a  Magnolia  party,  and  go 
off  when  the  fag  end  of  winter  comes  here. 
That  is  just  what  one  wants  in  such  a  place,  — 
special  people  to  enjoy  it  with.  There  is  a  trifle 
too  much  of  the  '  niente '  about  it,  when  one  is 
alone.  I  should  have  been  glad  to  telegraph 
north  to  have  a  laborious  duty  or  two  sent  down 
to  perform  at  my  leisure." 

"  You  should  have  sent  to  Mrs.  Rowland, 
then,"  Mrs.  Harrison  said,  joining  them.  "  I 
hear  of  you,  my  dear,  performing  all  kinds  of 
virtuous  acts  as  soon  as  you  are  rid  of  us." 

Mr.  Forrester  looked  interested,  and  Madge 
blushed,  not  at  all  prepared  to  submit  her  life  in 
these  last  weeks  to  the  gay  comments  of  the 
people  about  her. 

"  Mr.  Crawford  said  he  met  you  the  other  day, 
down  in  the  by-ways,  just  going  into  a  court 
where  he  knew  there  was  a  smell  that  might  have 
justified  a  good  Samaritan  in  going  over  to  the 
other  side  of  the  way  ;  and  you  and  Helen  Lee 
were  laden  with  baskets  and  bundles." 

Madge  felt  quite  grateful  to  Mr.  Forrester  for 
the  kindly  way  in  which  he  said,  "  Miss  Lee's 
visiting-list  is  a  varied  one,  and  takes  in  the 


MADGE    ANDERSON    AGAIN. 


people  who  need  her  most,  irrespective  of  disa- 
greeables." * 

"  We  were  going,"  Madge  said,  "  to  see  a  little 
patient  for  the  Children's  Hospital." 

"  You  are  the  only  one,  then,  of  our  theatrical 
set  who  has  done  anything  but  take  all  the 
amusement  to  be  had  out  of  the  acting,  and  let 
the  charity  take  care  of  itself." 

"  I  never  posed  among  the  '  pieuses,'  "  Mrs. 
Harrison  said  ;  and  then,  changing  her  tone,  as 
she  saw  Madge  look  annoyed,  "  I  am  a  little 
cross,  because  Helen  Lee  does  not  put  me  on 
her  good  books  under  any  category.  She  does 
not  even  think  I  am  to*be  improved  ;  but  you 
will  not  let  her  make  me  into  a  bugbear,  will 
you  ?  And,  by  the  way,  my  dear,  who  do  you 
think  I  saw  in  Washington  ?  —  our  charming 
Count  de  Lasteyrie  !  He  is  on  the  French 
legation,  and  says  he  has  had  but  one  thought 
since  we  met  in  Nice  two  years  ago  :  to  see 
again  'cette  charmante  Madame  Owlan.'  And 
he  really  looked  as  if  he  meant  it.  I  should  cer- 
tainly have  believed  him  if  he  had  said  it  of  me. 
But  he  will  tell  you  himself  at  Newport." 

She  walked  off  laughing,  and  left  Madge 
with  a  pretty  flush  on  her  cheeks,  partly  because 
Robert  Forrester  was  looking  at  her  so  ear- 
nestly. 

"  I  think  I  remember   that   little    Count,"  he 


22O        FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

said,  meditatively  ;•"  a  man  with  sentimental 
eyes,  and  the  part  Ih  his  hair  so  very  straight 
that  it  made  his  nose  look  crooked." 

"  That's  a  man's  optical  delusion.  I  only  re- 
member the  beautiful  dark  eyes.  But  I  should 
like  to  have  seen  him  here  ;  it  would  have  been 
like  a  bit  of  the  life  abroad." 
•  "  You  will  see  him  when  we  stop  at  Washing- 
ton on  our  way  back  from  Magnolia  next  year." 

Madge  shook  her  head. 

"Well,  then,  at  Newport  this  summer.  A 
Count  with  sentimental  eyes  is  sure  to  be  a  suc- 
cess there." 

"  Yes,  but  I  am  not  at  all  sure  of  being  there 
myself.  Newport  is  a  castle  in  the  air  for  me." 

"  Of  course  you  must  go.  It  is  the  most 
charming  life  in  America.  Mrs.  Harrison  told 
me  she  quite  counted  upon  your  being  near  her 
this  summer." 

And  then  he  described  the  Newport  life,  with 
just  a  delicate  hint  of  what  would  await  her 
there.  Madge  thought  again  she  had  forgotten 
how  delightful  this  atmosphere  was  ;  and  surely 
after  her  quiet  spring  spent  in  doing  just  what 
her  husband  wished,  he  would  not  object  to  her 
having  a  few  gay  weeks  before  going  to  Hartfield. 
Of  course  she  would  go  home,  but  it  need  not  be 
very  early  ;  and  as  for  the  visit  to  the  Lees  he 
had  proposed,  she  could  persuade  him  to  give  that 


MADGE    ANDERSON    AGAIN.  221 

up.     Sea  air  —  yes  !  that  would  be  the  thing  for 
them  all. 

Madge's  letters  were  most  satisfactory  ;  and 
Rachel  felt  sure  that  the  threatening  clouds  must 
have  passed  away.  With  the  certainty  of  this,  she 
could  wait  very  contentedly  till  summer  should 
bring  them  all  together  at  Hartfield,  though  it 
was  rather  a  disappointment,  when  the  first  hint 
came  that  there  might  be  a  delay  in  the  home- 
coming. In  June  the  Rowlands  went  to  West 
Point,  and  from  there  Madge  wrote  in  raptures 
of  the  place,  the  people,  the  amusements.  Rachel 
wondered  a  little  what  became  of  Phil  during 
these  long  excursions,  and  in  the  afternoons  and 
evenings  spent  by  his  mother  in  amusing  herself. 
Presently,  Newport  appeared  in  the  distance. 
Madge  wrote  that  she  hoped  father  and  mother 
would  not  be  disappointed  if  she  did  not  come  to 
Hartfield  quite  as  soon  as  she  had  promised,  for 
she  would  stay  all  the  later  in  the  autumn  ;  but 
she  wanted  very  much  to  go  to  Newport,  and 
hoped  that  Jack  would  consent.  And  then  let- 
ters more  rapturous  still,  but  very  short ;  she 
would  tell  Rachel  everything  when  she  saw  her, 
but  there  was  no  time  to  write,  and  they  should 
meet  soon.  Jack  was  very  decided  that  he  could 
not  stay  in  Newport  beyond  the  middle  of  August, 
though  it  seemed  very  hard  to  leave  just  at  the 
gayest  time.  But  at  the  beginning  of  the  month 
came  a  letter  from  Dr.  Howland. 


222       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE   SISTERS   MEET   AT   LAST. 

"  DEAR  RACHEL,  —  I  suppose  it  will  make  no 
difference  to  you  at  the  farm  if  Margaret  and  the 
boy  come  to  you  sooner  than  we  had  arranged. 
I  do  not  think  she  is  very  strong  ;  the  air  here  is 
a  little  too  bracing  for  her  ;  and,  in  fact,  I  shall 
be  glad  to  have  her  leading  a  more  quiet  life  than 
here.  She  is  the  most  popular  little  lady  that  I 
know,  and  is  in  such  demand  for  riding  parties 
and  picnics  and  Germans,  that  there  is  as  little 
rest  for  nerves  here  as  in  town.  I  am  the  more 
anxious  to  have  her  under  your  mother's  wing, 
that  I  am  going  to  make  a  little  run  abroad  for  a , 
few  weeks.  I  shall  be  back  in  time  to  have  part 
of  the  visit  with  you,  and  meantime  you  will 
put  a  little  more  color  into  her  cheeks.  Make 
her  go  off  on  the  ox  team  with  your  father,  and 
send  her  to  bed  early.  Do  not  be  hurt  if  Phil 
seems  to  have  failed  a  little  in  allegiance  to  the 
barn-yard,  for  he  and  his  devoted  Susan  have 
been  leading  the  life  of  old  salts  here,  and  are 
celebrated  on  the  beach  for  their  sailing  of  shin- 
gles and  the  smallest-sized  schooners.  Phil  pro- 


THE    SISTERS    MEET    AT    LAST.  223 

poses  to  bring  a  few  crabs  and  jelly-fishes  to 
domesticate  in  the  duck-pond,  and  thinks  he  shall 
make  great  changes  in  the  stock  of  the  farm." 

Then  came  messages  and  arrangements  about 
the  journey  up,  for  he  should  sail  the  day  after 
they  left ;  but  within  was  an  enclosure  which 
Rachel  read  by  herself  in  her  own  room.  It  said : 

"  I  am  counting  upon  you,  dear,  kind  sister  to 
us  both,  to  do  much  more  than  make  my  Mar- 
garet strong  again.  Help  us  to  get  back  the  hap- 
piness which  seems  to  have  slipped  away,  I  can 
scarcely  tell  you  how.  I  know  this  :  that  I  never 
loved  her  more  entirely  than  at  this  moment,  and 
I  can  scarcely  believe  that  she  has  changed  to 
me  ;  if  I  really  thought  so,  there  would  be  very 
little  left  for  me  in  this  world.'  The  life  here  has 
been  good  for  neither  of  us.  She  has  lived  on 
excitement  for  months  ;  all  control,  on  my  part, 
she  thinks  severity  or  want  of  sympathy ;  and  I 
see  her  restrained  in  my  presence,  and  thankful 
when  she  knows  that  some  occupation  of  my  own 
will  leave  her  free  to  enjoy  her  gay  friends.  I  am 
sure  that  our  only  chance  is  in  being  separated 
for  a  while,  and  then  perhaps  we  may  start  afresh. 
I  have  made  business  abroad  an  excuse  for  ab- 
sence ;  and  feel  so  sure  that  she  needs  the  rest 
that  I  would  go  if  only  as  a  pretext  for  sending 
her  to  you.  With  all  her  gayety,  sometimes  I 


224       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET.* 

think  she  is  no  happier  than  I,  and  it  is  that 
which  is  wearing  her  out.  But,  Rachel,  I  look  to 
you.  I  have  seen  you  when  you  seemed  to  know 
by  instinct,  by  the  very  turn  of  her  voice,  what 
she  was  feeling.  Tell  me  now  what  you  see  in  her 
face.  Does  she  love  me  as  I  know  that  she  did  ? 
or  have  I  lost  all  my  hold  upon  her  in  trying  to 
make  my  influence  stronger  ?  Which  of  us  is  in 
the  wrong  ?  If  you  can  tell  me  that  I  have  made 
a  mistake,  and  how  to  do  better  for  her,  I  shall 
be  most  grateful.  Love  her  better,  I  cannot ;  but 
I  may  have  been  unwise  in  my  love.  So  I  go 
and  leave  her  in  your  hands.  Do  not  answer 
this  till  I  have  sailed  ;  she  knows  nothing  of  my 
writing." 

A  year  ago  the  contents  of  this  letter  would 
have  been  an  intolerable  sorrow ;  for  Rachel  would 
have  known  that  she  could  only  grope  in  her 
darkness,  struggling  to  find  a  way  for  her  darling 
out  of  the  maze  in  which  she  had  lost  herself. 
But  now  that  she  could  act,  never  would  she  be- 
lieve that  such  a  complication  need  go  on  where 
those  most  concerned  only  wished  for  what  was 
right.  That  Madge  had  ceased  to  love  her  hus- 
band was  a  simple  impossibility,  so  she  told 
herself.  Her  first  thought  was  to  consult  David, 
but  that  would  be  a  mistake  ;  his  influence  over 
Madge  would  be  much  stronger  if  he  had  no 


THE  SISTERS  MEET  AT  LAST.       225 

thought  but  of  making  her  happy.  No,  though 
it  would  be  a  comfort  to  talk  over  this,  as  every- 
thing else,  with  him,  she  believed  that  all  the 
good  which  would  come  of  seeking  his  advice 
would  be  better  accomplished  by  leaving  her  sis- 
ter to  his  kind,  earnest,  simple  nature. 

And  then  she  fell  to  thinking  what  it  was  that 
she  was  going  to  find  in  the  face  on  which  her 
eyes  had  not  rested  for  five  years,  —  not  since  the 
autumn  day  when,  in  the  tender  grief  of  giving 
up  her  sister,  Rachel  so  little  thought  that  the 
expression  she  saw  there  then  she  should  never 
see  again  except  in  memory.  The  especial  charm 
of  Madge's  loveliness  had  been  in  a  look  which 
does  not  often  outlast  childhood.  That  perfec- 
tion of  the  young  creature  simply  living  to  be 
loved  and  made  happy,  taking  its  own  beauty  and 
all  that  it  brings  with  it  as  a  matter  of  course, 
must  have  disappeared.  She  knew  that  her  sis- 
ter was  still  a  lovely  young  woman  ;  but  even 
with  Rachel's  want  of  knowledge  of  what  the 
world  was,  she  knew  that  the  training  necessary 
to  live  in  it  must  have  destroyed  the  simplicity  of 
the  girl,  whose  beauty  and  graceful  ways  still 
seemed  to  pervade  the  room  which  they  had 
shared  so  long  together.  The  birds  had  begun 
to  chirp  outside  her  window,  and  when  she  put 
out  her  lamp  the  gray  light  was  showing  before 
she  lay  down,  as  she  had  done  so  many  times  in 
IS 


226       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

these  last  years,  to  dream  of  her  darling's,  face  ; 
then  it  was  to  wake  in  tears  of  weary  longing,  but 
now  with  the  instant  thought  how  near;  how  very 
near  was  the  moment  when  her  heart's  desire 
should  be  granted.  So  Rachel  decided  with  her- 
self that  if  there  must  be  anxiety,  upon  her  it 
should  fall ;  and  the  house  was  astir  with  prepa- 
rations for  Madge's  coming,  and  no  thought  but 
of  happiness  greater  than  the  year  before  ;  for 
then  there  was  not  even  hope  for  Rachel,  and 
now  she  was  her  own  dear  self  again,  hands  and 
heart  and  eyes,  all  for  their  service.  With  both 
their  children  well  and  happy,  what  was  there  for 
father  and  mother  to  wish  for ;  to  them  was  not 
visible  "  the  cloud  no  bigger  than  a  man's  hand." 
By  the  time  Madge  came  back  to  Hartfield  the 
summer  had  begun  to  wane,  almost  impercep- 
tibly, but  with  signs  as  sure  as  the  infinitesimal 
wrinkles  which  the  beauty  sees  in  her  looking- 
glass,  but  trusts  that  the  world  has  not  yet  found 
out ;  the  cricket-orchestra  grew  louder  every  night 
as  the  singing-birds  ceased  by  day,  and  at  sunset 
the  autumn  chill  came  creeping  up  from  the 
river.  If  Madge  looked  a  little  more  pale  and 
quiet  than  usual,  there  was  enough  to  account  for 
it  in  the  journey  and  the  parting  from  her  hus- 
band ;  and  then  she  seemed  so  affectionate  and 
so  glad  to  be  with  them,  that  there  could  be 
nothing  but  happiness  in  receiving  her.  Beside 


THE  SISTERS  MEET  AT  LAST.       22/ 

which  Phil  brought  an  atmosphere  of  commotion 
with  him  which  allowed  no  one  to  be  quiet  enough 
to  feel  anything.  He  tumbled  out  of  the  carryall 
which  brought  them  from  the  station,  and  in- 
stantly pervaded  the  place ;  seemed  to  be  hug- 
ging old  Nancy  in  the  kitchen  and  pulling  the 
tails  of  the  little  new  pigs  in  the  barn-yard  at 
one  and  the  same  moment  ;  and  even  when  he 
was  supposed  to  have  subsided  into  bed,  appeared 
down-stairs  again  in  his  nightgown  for  a  final 
charge  to  his  grandfather,  "  to  call  him  bright  and 
early  when  he  waked  up  'e  cows." 

It  had  been  a  great  solace  to  the  Andersons  in 
the  ever-present  missing  of  their  darling,  that  she 
should  still  have  her  place  in  the  house  kept  as 
ready  and  waiting  for  her  as  if  this  were  still  her 
home.  Madge's  room  and  Phil's  nursery  were 
filled  with  all  their  belongings  ;  next  to  these, 
and  with  a  door  between,  came  Rachel's  room, 
and  here  when  she  came  up-stairs  after  she  had 
hoped  Madge  was  quietly  in  bed,  she  found  her 
sitting  in  the  deep  window-seat  looking  out  into 
the  moonlight. 

"  Put  out  the  light,  Rachie  dear,  and  come  and 
sit  with  me.  I've  not  had  you  for  a  moment  yet." 

"  What  will  mother  say  ?  She  hopes  that  you 
are  fast  asleep."  But  the  candle  was  blown  out 
and  Rachel  came  to  sit  in  the  window.  Madge 
put  out  her  hand  to  take  her  sister's,  but  did  not 


228  FROM    MADGE   TO   MARGARET. 

turn  her  eyes  from  the  scene  outside,  and  for  the 
first  few  moments  they  sat,  one  gazing  to  the  far 
away  hills  black  against  the  sky,  the  other  as  if 
she  hoped  to  read  the  answer  to  every  fear  in  the 
face  which  once  had  been  an  open  book  to  her. 

It  was  a  beautiful  woman's  face,  Rachel  thought, 
with  a  look  of  their  mother  which  had  not  been 
there  when  she  saw  it  last,  with  its  rounded  out- 
lines of  the  cheek  and  ever  ready  gayety.  Now 
there  was  a'delicacy  in  color  and  feature,  and  an 
expression  never  seen  before,  except  perhaps  in 
some  passing  childish  grief. 

"  Rachel,"  she  said  presently,  "  did  those  hills 
look  natural  to  you  when  you  came  back  and 
could  see  them  ?  just  as  they  used  to  do  when  we 
were  children  and  wondered  what  was  on  the 
other  side  ? " 

"Just  as  natural  as  if  I  had  waked  up  that 
moment ;  and  I  was  so  glad  that  I  lived  where 
there  was  nothing  which  could  change.  I  could 
not  bear  to  find  even  a  hencoop  in  a  new  place.'' 

"  Then  I  suppose  it  is  because  I  have  been  on 
the  other  side  and  found  it  all  so  different.  Oh, 
Rachel !  Jack  and  I  have  made  such  a  dreadful 
mistake  !  and  there's  no  way  out  of  it ! " 

Rachel's  heart  fell  as  it  had  never  done  before. 
It  was  not  one  of  Madge's  outbursts  ;  but  she  sat 
with  her  head  leaning  against  the  side  of  the  win- 
dow, the  tears  falling  quietly,  and  such  a  look  of 


THE    SISTERS    MEET    AT    LAST.  22Q 

silent  sorrow  on  her  face  that  Rachel  felt  helpless, 
as  if  some  unknown  change  had  come  over  the 
child  who  had  always  been  like  part  of  herself. 

"  This  is  all  wrong,  dear.  You  are  too  tired  to 
think  or  do  anything  but  get  to  bed  and  let  me 
read  you  to  sleep.  To-morrow  you  will  tell  me 
all  about  it." 

"  There's  nothing  more  to  tell.  I  thought  I 
was  doing  no  harm  ;  but  Jack's  patience  has  gone. 
He  said  that  he  went  abroad  for  business  ;  but  I 
know  so  well  that  it  was  because  he  was  tired  out 
and  could  not  bear  it  any  longer." 

She  was  sobbing  bitterly  now,  and  Rachel  was 
glad  to  have  the  unnatural  quiet  broken  up,  as 
she  drew  her  into  her  arms  and  made  her  cry  on 
her  shoulder. 

When  the  burst  had  spent  itself  a  little  she. 
said,  between  the  snort  sobbing  breaths,  "  I  can't 
think,  Rachel,  why  he  married  me.  It  seems  to 
me  that  I  am  just  what  I  was  then,  and  I  know 
that  in  the  beginning  he  thought  everything  I  did 
was  right." 

"  Yes,  dear ;  but  don't  you  see  that  what  was 
right  and  natural  in  a  little  country  girl,  who  had 
never  known  anything  but  life  on  a  farm,  mayn't 
be  so  in  a  woman  who  is  married  to  a  man  who 
wants  her  for  his  best  friend  and  companion  ?  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  his  friend,"  sobbed  Madge, 
with  a  return  of  her  old  self,  which  reassured 


23O       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

Rachel.  "  I  want  him  to  be  in  love  with  me  ;  I 
am  with  him  as  much  as  I  ever  was  in  my  We, 
though  I  know  he  doesn't  believe  it.  He  works 
<it  the  things  he  cares  for  ;  and  how  can  he  expect 
that  I  should  not  amuse  myself?  But  he  objects 
to  every  one  who  makes  my  life  pleasant,"  — 
then  came  another  burst  of  crying,  and,  —  "Oh, 
Rachel,  I  love  him  so !  and  I  am  so  afraid  of 
him  !  for  I  know  he  does  not  believe  me,  and 
thinks  I  care  more  for  people  whom  I  should  not 
mind  if  I  never  saw  again." 

"  But,  Madge,"  Rachel  urged,  "  I  do  not  see  why 
it  was  not  a  simple  matter  to  tell  Mrs.  Harrison 
that  your  husband  wanted  you  to  be  more  with 
him,  —  quite  as  easy  as  to  disappoint  him  by 
saying  that  you  preferred  her  society." 

"  I  dare  say  you  are  right,  Rachel ;  it  seems  so 
easy  to  be  good  now  that  I*am  here  with  you. 
But  then  I  really  did  not  know  till  towards  the 
end  that  he  cared  so  much  about  it.  He  is  al- 
ways busy  with  his  writing  and  reading  and  hunt- 
ing up  sick  people,  and  he  could  have  come  with 
me  if  he  had  liked.  I  wonder"  —  with  a  sigh  — 
"  if  Jack  had  decided  that  last  afternoon  that  I 
was  too  much  of  a  goose  for  any  sensible  man  to 
be  tied  to,  and  had  gone  off  without  speaking, 
what  he  would  have  done  ;  —  married  some  wise 
creature,  I  suppose,  who  would  have  thought  she 
knew -as  much  as  he  did;  and  how  she  would 
have  tired  him  ! " 


THE    SISTERS    MEET    AT    LAST.  23! 

"  There,  dear,  now  I  shouldn't  spend  any  unne- 
cessary wrath  on  that  imaginary  lady  ;  for  I  can 
tell  you  that  Jack  loves  his  goose  better  than  he 
could  ever  have  loved  anything  else  in  the  world. 
Now,  if  you  do  not  want  to  get  me  a  scolding  to- 
morrow you  will  come  to  bed  this  moment ;  there 
is  the  clock  in  the  kitchen  striking  twelve.  Why 
not  come  in  here  and  sleep  with  me  ? " 

But  long  after  Madge  was  breathing  quietly  by 
her  side,  Rachel  lay  thinking  over  all  she  had 
been  told,  and  recurring  with  especial  anxiety  to 
the  frequent  mention  of  Mr.  Forrester's  name. 
She  did  not  wish  to  fix  it  in  Madge's  mind  by  talk- 
ing of  him,  but  she  liked  his  influence  even  less 
than  Mrs.  Harrison's. 

After  this  first  evening  Rachel  did  not  renew 
their  conversation.  In  a  day  or  two,  when  the 
fatigue  of  the  move  was  over,  Madge  seemed 
much  brighter,  and  heartily  glad  to  be  at  home 
again.  Still,  she  looked  delicate,  and  there  was 
a  shade  over  the  brightness.  Rachel  wondered 
sometimes  why  her  mother  did  not  feel  the  dif- 
ference ;  but  Dr.  Rowland's  letter  seemed  quite 
sufficient  explanation  of  any  lack  of  spirits,  and 
Mrs.  Anderson  was  really  so  happy  in  having 
Madge  to  cosset  that  little  room  was  left  for 
anxiety.  She  was  very  fond  of  her  son-in-law, 
but  the  home  circle  was  quite  perfect  without 
him. 


232       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

One  afternoon,  when  good,  kind  Mrs.  Richards 
had  stepped  in  for  a  comfortable  chat  and 
Rachel's  helping  hand  in  a  bag  of  stocking-darn- 
ing, —  so  large  as  to  suggest  the  idea  that  the 
Richards  family  must  belong  to  the  order  of  cen- 
tipedes, —  she  said,  "  Madge  looks  a  little  bit 
peaked,  doesn't  she,  Rachel  ? " 

"  I  don't  think  she's  very  strong  ;  but  Dr. 
Rowland  wrote  us  word  that  she  needed  a  little 
Hartfield  air,  and  I  think  she  looks  better  already. 
But  don't  say  anything  to  mother,  if  you  think 
she  looks  poorly." 

"  Oh,  no  ;  I  only  thought  that  perhaps  it  was 
because  I  was  not  used  to  her  pretty,  genteel 
look.  I  always  thought  she  was  a  picture,  you 
know  ;  but  some  way  now  I  feel  as  if  she  was 
somebody  I  was  reading  about  in  a  story-book. 
I  suppose  Madge  knows  herself  just  as  well  in 
New  York  as  she  does  here.  But  didn't  it  seem 
queer  to  you  to  see  the  child  ordering  round  her 
house  just  as  if  she  had  been  born  to  it  ?  There, 
bless  you,  you  dear  soul,"  —  giving  her  a  pat  with 
a  hand  imbedded  in  one  of  the  deacon's  vast  blue 
socks,  —  "  you  always  did  seem  to  feel  everything 
that  was  going  on,  even  when  you  could  not  see 
us." 

"  I  did  really  mind  my  blindness  in  New  York 
more  than  anywhere  else,"  Rachel  said.  "  Here 
I  can  account  for  every  sound,  even  the  opening 


THE    SISTERS    MEET    AT    LAST.  233 

and  shutting  of  each  door.  But  there  the  house, 
and  Madge  as  the  owner  of  it,  were  puzzles  to 
me.  You  know  there  were  four  years  when 
Madge  dropped  out  of  our  lives  and  was  learning 
all  about  her  new  one,  so  that  there  is  nothing 
strange  about  it  to  her,  as  there  is  to  us." 

"  Well,  it  hasn't  hurt  her  a  bit,"  said  Mrs.  Rich- 
ards  ;  "  for  I  heard  something  about  her  the  other 
day  that  just  pleased  me.  You  know  my  sister 
Pingree's  son  's  got  a  situation  down  in  New  York 
—  a  first-rate  one  it  is,  too  —  in  one  of  the  big 
stores.  But  they  tell  me  that  there's  more  differ- 
ence between  the  people  who  buy  and  those  that 
sell,  down  there,  than  there  is  here.  Well,  one 
day  last  winter,  when  he  was  standing  behind  his 
counter,  in  comes  Madge,  looking  just  as  pretty  as 
a  pink.  Sam  always  was  soft  on  her,  and  he  was 
so  pleased  to  see  her  that  he  just  put  his  hand 
out  and  said,  '  Why,  how  do  you  do  ? '  And  he 
said  that  when  he  thought  afterward  how  near 
he  came  to  calling  her  Madge,  he  felt  as  if  he'd 
had  the  greatest  escape  he  ever  had  in  his  life. 
Soon 's  he'd  done  it  he  knew  he'd  better  not, 
for  she  couldn't  help  looking  surprised,  and  she 
had  a  lady  friend  with  her,  and  was  all  dressed 
up.  But  it  was  only  a  minute,  and  then  she  was 
just  as  friendly,  and  asked  after  his  ma,  and  me 
and  all  the  folks,  and  seemed  real  interested. 
Sam  thought  ever  so  much  of  it,  because  the 


234       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

other  clerks  were  so  astonished,  and  said  she 
and  the  other  lady  too  were  among  the  very  first 
people." 

Rachel,  in  her  heart,  felt  very  thankful  that 
Madge  had  been  equal  to  the  occasion,  for  she 
knew  very  well  how  she  must  have  winced  when 
good  Sam  Pingree's  hand  came  over  the  counter, 
especially  with  any  one  by  to  see  and  smile  ;  but 
her  mother,  who  had  come  in,  said  :  • 

"  I  don't  know  why  you  should  give  her  so 
much  credit.  I'm  sure  I  hope  she  was  very  glad 
to  see  an  old  friend  ;  she  ought  to  have  been." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know ;  it  isn't  so  very  easy  to 
feel  just  right  when  we'd  ought  to,  that  we  need 
begrudge  her  the  credit  becaus'e  she'd  only  done 
her  duty.  I'm  free  to  say  duty's  most  too  much 
for  me  sometimes.  There  she  is  now,  and  that 
duck  of  a  Phil  with  her.  I  can't  hold  her  in  my 
lap  nowadays,  Philly ;  so  do  you  climb  right  up 
into  her  place,  and  I  shall  feel  as  if  I'd  got  her 
back  again." 

Phil  found  his  intimate  acquaintance  so  widely 
claimed  in  Hartfield  that  he  felt  that  he  must 
draw  the  line,  and  did  so  sometimes,  much  to  his 
mother's  embarrassment  ;  but  his  affection  for 
Mrs.  Richards  was  based  upon  too  firm  a  founda- 
tion of  gingerbread  to  be  disturbed,  so  he  came 
into  her  lap  while  she  darned  and  chatted,  and 
cuddled  him,  all  at  once. 


•ft 
THE    SISTERS    MEET    AT    LAST.  235 

"  I  have  been  to  see  Lizzie  Stedman,  mother," 
Madge  said,  "  and  I  never  saw  a  girl  so  changed. 
I  should  scarcely  have  known  her." 

"  She's  had  rather  a  hard  time  of  it,"  her  mother 
said,  "with  babies,  and  sickness,  and  not  much 
money.  But  how  pleased  she  must  have  been  to 
see  you  ! " 

"  I  suppose  she  was,"  Madge  answered,  rather 
doubtfully  ;  "  but  it  made  me  tired  to  see  her  with 
those  children  dragging  on  her,  and  all  her  pret- 
tiness  gone.  What  a  life  it  is  ! " 

"  A  good  deal  of  a  contrast  to  yours,  Maggie 
dear,"  her  mother  said,  with  the  contrast  in  her 
mind  stronger  still  between  her  daughter's  loveli- 
ness and  the  worn  minister's  wife,  whom  she 
recollected  as  bright  and  pretty  as  her  own  child. 

"  Money 's  not  all  that's  wanting  in  that  house," 
Mrs.  Richards  said,  nodding  her  head  ;  "  if  Lizzie 
and  her  husband  pulled  fair  and  square  together, 
I  don't  think  it's  so  great  of  a  load  after  all." 

"  Oh,  dear  me  !  you  don't  think  she's  happy  ? 
and  he  was  so  in  love  with  her  !  Rachel,  don't 
you  recollect  the  day  he  married  us,  and  they  had 
j  ust  come  back  from  their  wedding  journey  ?  You 
said  afterwards  that  he  looked  at  her  all  the  time 
as  if  he  were  reading  his  own  marriage  service. 
Oh,  why  will  things  change  so  ? " 

She  turned  away  quickly  to  hide  the  tears 
which  came  suddenly  to  her  eyes.  Rachel  hoped 


236  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

that  Mrs.  Richards  had  not  detected  them  ;  but 
whether  she  did  or  not,  she  only  said : 

"  I  don't  think  Lizzie 's  very  happy,  but  it  isn't 
because  she  does  not  love  her  husband.  She's  as 
fond  of  him  and  proud  of  him  as  she  can  be;  and 
so 's  he  of  her  ;  but  she's  one  of  the  kind  that 
wouldn't  mind  having  a  fire  or  a  shipwreck  come 
along  once  in  a  while,  so  as  to  have  something 
stirring  going  on,  and  have  her  husband  say  he's 
ready  to  die  for  her.  Lots  of  girls  are  just  like 
that,  after  they're  married ;  but  that's  not  the  way 
it  takes  a  man.  He's  sat  on  the  anxious-seats 
whilst  he  was  courting,  and  he  don't  calculate  to 
do  it  more  than  once  in  his  life.  It's  natural  it 
should  be  so  ;  but  sbme  women  don't  like  to  have 
it  all  stop,  and  settle  down  to  making  the  best  of 
things  together."  • 

"  I  don't  know  why  any  one  should  expect 
women  to  like  it,"  Madge  said  ;  "  it's  the  court- 
ing that  makes  us  care  for  them ;  and  why  should 
men  think  that  we  shall  go  on  liking  them  with- 
out it,  just  because  we  must  ? " 

Rachel  saw  her  mother  looking  at  Madge  with 
rather  an  uneasy,  puzzled  look. 

"  You  don't  mean  what  you  say,  I  think,  dear," 
Mrs.  Anderson  said.  "  If  it  was  the  courting  did 
it  all,  there  would  be  more  mistakes  in  marriages 
than  there  are  now.  When  a  good  honest  man 
like  John  Stedman  tells  a  girl  he'd  rather  spend 


THE    SISTERS    MEET    AT    LAST.  237 

his  life  with  her  than  with  any  other  woman  in 
the  world,  he 's  said  it  once  and  for  all,  and  he 
expects  her  to  believe  it." 

"  I  dare  say  Lizzie  does  believe  it,  but  she  cer- 
tainly looked  a  great  deal  happier  in  the  days 
when  she  was  not  sure  of  him.  As  for  you, 
mammie  dear,  why,  you  don't  know  anything 
about  the  ways  of  husbands  in  general.  I've 
seen  a  deal  of  courting  going  on  through  the 
dairy-window,  when  father  had  odd  moments  to 
spare  as  he  came  by." 

They  all  laughed  to  see  the  pretty  blush  which 
almost  made  Mrs.  Anderson's  face  look  young, 
and  brought  out  the  resemblance  between  the 
two,  as  Madge  laid  her  cheek  caressingly  against 
her  mother's. 

"  There  it  is,  Madge,"  Mrs.  Richards  said  ;  "  it 
rests  with  the  wife  just  as  much  as  the  husband 
to  keep  the  fire  burning.  I'll  tell  you  what  I 
think  is  a  pretty  good  plan  if  a  body  gets  a  little 
low  sometimes  :  sit  •  down  and  take  account  of 
stock,  and  you'll  be  surprised  to  see  how  your 
goods  mount  up.  Lizzie's  trouble  is  that  she 
sets  a  heap  by  her  husband  and  children,  and  if 
they're  sick,  it's  really  hard  work  to  get  her  to  let 
you  help  nurse  them  ;  but  when  they're  well,  she's 
a  great  deal  more  apt  to  count  up  the  things  that 
she  hasn't  got  than  what  she  has.  I  dare  say  one 
thing  that  made  her  seem  so  dull  this  afternoon, 


238  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

was  because  she  was  thinking  what  an  easy  life 
you  have  ;  just  as  if  that  made  hers  any  harder  !  " 

Madge  owned  that  her  old  friend  had  talked 
about  the  contrast  in  their  lives,  till  she  had  felt 
as  if  she  could  scarcely  bear  to  tell  all  that  Lizzie 
wanted  to  hear,  —  her  own  seemed  such  a  luxuri- 
ous existence. 

Mrs.  Richards  said  : 

"  Well,  Lizzie 's  one  of  those  people  that's  got 
to  get  at  things  by  a  road  of  their  own  making. 
She's  a  good  woman,  and  after  all  it's  her  own 
happiness  she  wastes,  for  her  husband  doesn't  see 
any  faults  in  her." 

Madge  sighed  and  thought  —  or  supposed  she 
thought  —  how  gladly  she  would  change  her  life 
for  that  of  a  hard-worked  minister's  wife,  if  her 
husband  would  only  say  that  of  her ! 

Rachel  said  nothing  to  Madge  of  the  enclosure 
in  Dr.  Rowland's  letter,  but  the  first  mail  after 
his  departure  carried  two  letters  from  Hartfield. 
One,  with  her  assurances  that  all  was  working  for 
good  ;  the  other,  Madge's  characteristic  outpour- 
ing of  love  and  regrets  and  reproaches,  and  long- 
ings for  him  to  be  at  home  again. 


OUTREMER. 


239 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

OUTREMER. 

THE  voyage  had  given  Dr.  Rowland  time  to 
decide  many  things  by  himself,  but  nothing  more 
clearly  than  the  duty  he  owed  his  wife  as  the  guar- 
dian of  her  inexperience.  Looking  back  to  the 
early  days  of  his  love,  he  felt  that  he  had  thought 
of  her  only  as  the  woman  he  longed  to  call  his 
wife,  and  whose  loveliness  was  his  ideal.  How 
this  girl,  with  her  beauty,  wilfulness,  and  sweetness 
combined,  was  to  be  formed  into  a  woman  who 
should  help  in  the  life  which  he  was  already  plan- 
ning for  himself,  he  had  never  considered.  While 
he  was  sitting  in  his  sea-chair,  wrapped  in  his 
ulster,  his  hat  pulled  over  his  eyes,  and  his  fellow- 
voyagers  wishing  he  could  be  exchanged  for  some 
less  dismal  and  speechless  companion,  he  had 
travelled  far  in  his  thoughts  through  the  different 
winters  and  summers  of  their  years  at  home  and 
abroad  ;  and  the  result  of  it  all  was  this  :  As  she 
was  even  at  this  moment,  the  world  held  no  other 
woman  for  him  !  none  lovelier  !  Many  wiser  there 
might  be,  but  not  one  who  could  so  fill  his  heart 


240       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET.  ' 

with  joy  at  the  thought  that  she  was  his  !  If  he 
had  never  planned  before  his  marriage  how  she 
was  to  be  exalted  into  an  ideal  woman,  he  began 
now,  and  by  the  time  he  reached  Liverpool  his 
chief  thought  was  how  he  could  shorten  the  busi- 
ness which  had  been  his  excuse  for  coming,  and 
return  before  she  expected  him.  If  Madge's  let- 
ter had  come  before  he  had  argued  himself  into 
feeling  that  with  him  rested  the  charge  of  bring- 
ing her  to  be  all  he  wished,  he  might  possibly 
have  felt  a  shade  of  his  old  discouragement,  in 
spite  of  her  loving  words.  Now  he  only  thought 
of  his  own  severity,  and  longed  to  banish  the  im- 
pression of  it  from  her  mind. 

The  first  letter  which  arrived  at  Hartfield  was 
received  with  unmingled  delight.  No,  not  quite 
that  ;  for  Madge  felt  rather  oppressed  by  this  new 
tone  of  confidence  in  her,  with  which  poor  Jack 
had  taken  such  pains  to  imbue  his  letter. 

"Do  you  know,  Rachel,"  she  said,  "Jack  is  the 
dearest  fellow  that  ever  lived ;  but  I  declare  I  do 
not  always  understand  him.  Before  he  went  away, 
he  had  worked  himself  up  into  such  a  state,  be- 
cause I  did  not  want  to  sit  at  home  with  him  and 
look  over  plans  for  hospitals,  that  you  would  have 
thought  to  play  lawn-tennis  was  a  most  dissipated 
amusement ;  and  tea,  afterwards,  quite  an  im- 
proper thing  to  talk  about.  And  now,  just  see 
this  !  No,  you  must  not  look  at  the  rest,  because 


OUTREMER.  24! 

he's  too  foolish.  But  here  —  why,  you  would  think 
I  had  drawn  the  plans  for  his  pet  hospital  all  my- 
self, he  seems  so  pleased  with  me  !  I  don't  feel 
as  if  I  were  any  wiser  than  I  was  when  he  went 
away ;  I  only  hope  I  shall  not  disappoint  him." 

Madge's  spirits  went  up  in  one  great  bound. 
Jack  loved  her  ;  had  forgiven  her;  had  forgotten  ! 
It  was  to  be  as  if  nothing  had  ever  happened.  The 
sequence  was  perfectly  natural  in  her  mind  ;  and 
Rachel  looked  on,  half  glad  to  see  her  happy 
again,  half  regretful  that  she  could  so  soon  forget 
the  pain  and  its  lesson.  It  was  the  old  story: 
Madge  only  recognized  a  fault  by  its  unpleasant 
consequences. 

For  very  different  reasons,  Dr.  Rowland's  spir- 
its had  undergone  nearly  as  great  a  change  for 
the  better,  as  had  his  wife's.  He  was  happier  for 
having  convinced  himself  that  he  had  been  in  the 
wrong ;  and  now  that  her  repentant  letter  had 
come,  he  was  ready  to  think  that  all  he  had 
hoped  from  their  separation  was  accomplished, 
and  longed  to  sail  in  the  next  steamer.  But 
though  he  might  have  finished  the  business  he 
came  for  by  letter,  he  would  not  be  weak,  and 
tlfe  time  he  had  intended  to  stay  should  be  use- 
fully filled  up.  So  a  busy,  cheerful  fortnight  was 
spent  in  England,  and  then  he  must  go  over  for 
another  week  or  two  'on  the  Continent ;  nothing 
loth,  for  he  had  on  his  mind  a  long  list  of  pur- 


242       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

chases  to  be  made  for  Madge's  pleasure.  It  was 
now  September.  Figaro  described  Paris  as  a 
howling  wilderness  ;  no  orre  left  in  it  but  shop- 
keepers and  strangers,  kindly  created  by  Provi- 
dence to  be  their  prey.  To  him  it  was  the 
gayest  of  bazaars  by  day,  and  an  enchanted  gar- 
den by  night.  Jack  blessed  his  good  luck  that 
he  came  across  none  of  his  compatriots  in  the 
first  flush  of  sight-seeing,  ready  to  seize  upon 
him  as  escort  in  accomplishing  what  the  guide- 
book calls,  "  a  hurried,  but  feasible  tour  of  the 
city  in  a  day."  He  passed  mornings  in  hunting 
up  various  things  which  he  remembered  hearing 
Madge  say  that  she  rather  regretted  not  having 
brought  home  with  her,  and  did  not  even  be- 
grudge the  time  spent  in  deciding  at  Felix's  on 
the  dresses  and  hats  in  which  she  was  to  look 
her  loveliest,  as  she  praised  his  taste.  Made- 
moiselle, who  tried  them  all  on  to  show  the  effect, 
thought  at  first  that  he  was  admiring  the  result 
in  her ;  but  soon  found,  with  her  French  tact, 
that  a  little  judicious  recollection  on  her  part  of 
Madame's  grace  and  beauty,  would  add  many 
finishing  touches  to  the  bill. 

But  a  few  days  were  left  now  before  his  retirrn 
to  England,  when,  one  evening,  as  he  came  into 
the  courtyard  of  his  hotel,  he  found  his  way 
blocked  by  a  fresh  arrival  of  trunks  ;  and  while 
waiting  to  pass,  heard  himself  enthusiastically 


OUTREMER.  243 

greeted  by  one  of  the  ladies  who  had  just  alighted 
from  the  cab,  and  was  counting  her  treasures. 

"  Dr.  Rowland  !  now  this  is  most  delightful  to 
see  a  friend  from  home,  and  just  at  this  moment 
too  when  we  are  in  such  a  strait.  Two  forlorn 
women  are  so  at  the  mercy  of  these  horrible 
people." 

Jack  raised  his  hat,  endeavoring  to  make  it 
mean  that,  though  a  man  and  a  brother,  he  did 
not  intend  to  be  taken  possession  of  by  Mrs. 
Morris  and  her  daughter.  But  out  poured  a  long 
tale  of  grievances.  They  had  been  victimized  in 
every  possible  way  from  Liverpool  to  Paris.  Mrs. 
Morris  even  seemed  to  think  that  the  landlord  of 
her-London  hotel  was  in  league  with  the  railway 
officials  that  one  of  her  trunks  should  be  missing 
on  their  arrival  here.  He  could  not  but  listen, 
and  offer  to  make  some  inquiries  at  the  Gare  du 
Nord  the  next  day  ;  but  he  walked  away,  wonder- 
ing if  there  were  people  whom  he  should  have  had 
less  pleasure  in  seeing  than  the  Morrises.  The 
mother,  a  woman  whose  chief  ambition  in  life  had 
been  to  make  veneer  pass  for  solid  mahogany  ; 
and  Alicia  —  well,  poor  girl,  she  had  not  always 
been  the  disappointed  woman  she  seemed  now ! 
He  remembered  her  years  ago,  when  she  came 
abroad,  pretty  and  attractive  ;  and  even  then  he 
had  pitied  her  for  being  dangled  as  a  bait  before 
the  eyes  of  every  possible  husband.  If  the  pur- 


244        FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

suit  had  continued  ever  since,  no  wonder  that 
temper  and  tongue  had  been  worn  sharp.  It  was 
not  so  very  much  to  do  to  hunt  up  a  trunk, 
which,  by  the  way,  after  being  telegraphed  for 
far  and  wide,  suddenly  appeared  in  a  corner  at 
the  station  in  Paris,  where  it  would  seem  to  have 
been  put  for  no  other  purpose  but  to  attract 
the  attention  of  every  official  who  came  near  it  ; 
but  what  he  did  mind  was  being  obliged  to 
come  and  go  quite  so  frequently  in  Mrs.  Mor- 
ris's behalf,  whose  gratitude  even  had  an  irritat- 
ing quality,  sorely  trying  to  his  politeness.  How- 
ever, it  was  only  for  a  day  or  two,  and  his  heart 
rather  softened  towards  Alicia,  who  seemed  to  be 
ill  or  unhappy,  and  glad  to  treat  him  in  a  friendly 
way ;  a  way  which  suited  her  much  better  than 
her  usual  lively  society  manner. 

On  the  evening  of  his  last  day  in  Paris,  he  went 
to  say  good-bye,  au  second,  Hotel  Wagram,  and 
was  glad  to  find  Alicia  sitting  alone  by  one  of  the 
long  windows  thrown  wide  open.  There  was  a 
dim  lamp  on  a  distant  table,  and  as  he  came 
quietly  into  the  room,  he  thought  her  attitude  a 
sad  one,  her  head  resting  against  the  side  of  the 
window,  and  hands  clasped  upon  her  knee  ;  he 
even  fancied  there  were  tears  in  her  voice  as  she 
came  to  greet  -him.  Her  mother  had  taken  her 
maid,  she  said,  and  driven  out  to  Neuilly  to  see  a 
friend  ;  and  so  they  sat  down  together  near  the 


OUTREMER.  245 

window,  neither  saying  much,  except  a  word  or 
two  of  the  loveliness  of  the  evening,  and  the  scene 
outside  —  for  the  moon  streamed  in  at  the  win- 
dow ;  the  Rue  de  Rivoli  and  the  gardens  were 
astir  with  life,  and  above  the  hum  of  people 
came  the  sound  of  the  band  playing. 

"  You  go  to-morrow  early  ? "  she  said,  presently. 

"  Yes  ;  I  shall  dine  in  London  to-morrow  night; 
and  in  another  fortnight  I  shall  be  leaving  Eng- 
land. You  will  be  at  Bellagio  by  that  time  ? " 

"  Yes  ;  I  half  wish  we  were  going  the  other 
way,  as  you  are." 

"  You  will  not  feel  so  when  you  are  once  out  of 
Paris.  The  weather  has  been  very  uncomforta- 
ble for  this  last  week ;  even  I  have  felt  headachy 
and*-  oppressed,  and  I've  thought  you  were  not 
looking  very  well.  I  have  had  half  a  mind  to 
prescribe  for  you." 

"Please  prescribe  to  mamma  to  leave  her  shop- 
ping till  cold  weather,  and  let  us  go,  I  don't  care 
where  —  perhaps  it  will  be  as  dull  anywhere 
else." 

Jack  rather  wanted  to  ask  why  they  had  come 
so  far,  when  they  might  have  had  quite  as  dull  a 
time  at  home  for  less  money  ;  but  it  was  not  his 
affair,  and  as  Miss  Morris  seemed  in  a  silent 
mood,  they  both  sat  looking  out  and  listening  to 
the  music.  It  was  a  Strauss  waltz,  and  with  no 
one  to  dance  to  it,  there  was  nothing  to  relieve 


246       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

the  pathetic  rhythm,  which  was  the  undertone 
accompanying  the  brilliant  clash  of  the  orches- 
tra. 

He  was  thinking  of  his  wife,  and  how  lovely  he 
had  seen  her  look,  dancing  and  radiant  with  ex- 
citement. It  was  not  quite  a  happy  thought,  for 
it  brought  up  some  of  the  jarring  elements  in  their 
two  lives,  —  when  Miss  Morris  spoke  : 

"  I  wonder  why  waltzes  should  always  make 
one  feel  rather  sad  ?  They  have  gay  enough 
associations." 

"  I  suppose  it  is  the  dramatic  effect  the  writer 
intends.  The  ball-room  itself  is  always  full  of  it, 
if  you  stand  by  and  look  on,  watching  the  differ- 
ent little  scenes." 

"Rather  serious  ones  sometimes,  judging, by 
the  results  !  Ah,  well !  Dr.  Rowland,  after  all, 
own  up  that  life  is  rather  a  dismal  matter  for  most 
people,  between  the  things  they  want  and  never 
reach,  and  the  things  that  are  not  worth  having 
even  when  they've  had  their  wish  ! " 

Jack  answered  cheerfully,  "  that  really  he  did 
not  think  it  was  such  a  bad  business  as  that  ;  and 
for  his  part,  some  of  th*e  things  he  had  tried  the 
hardest  to  get,  had  been  uncommonly  well  worth 
having." 

"  You  may  be  one  of  the  fortunate  ones,"  she 
said,  "  and  I  hope  your  philosophy  will  hold  good 
if  anything  ever  does  go  wrong  with  you." 


OUTREMER.  247 

"  Oh,"  he  interrupted,  "  don't  think  I  am  so 
audacious  as  to  expect  to  have  it  my  own  wav 
always  ;  but  perhaps  I  have  seen  more  of  the  hard 
part  of  other  people's  lives,  and  know  more  of  what 
deserves  to  be  called  unhappiness,  than  you  do." 

"  I  call  it  unhappiness  when  I  am  forced  to  do 
exactly  what  I  most  dislike  :  to  come  out  here, 
for  instance,  and  travel  about,  so  that  mamma 
may  make  acquaintance  with  people  who  do  not 
care  a  straw  for  us,  when  all  I  have  any  interest 
in  are  at  home,  and  to  have  younger  women  take 
my  place  in  everything,  merely  to  please  their 
vanity." 

She  spoke  with  such  vehemence,  almost  pas- 
sion, that  he  sat  aghast,  feeling  hopeless  of  saying 
anything  to  soothe  her,  and  yet  vaguely  uncom- 
fortable lest  there  should  be  a  meaning  in  it 
pointed  at  him.  She  evidently  tried  to  control 
herself,  and  did  not  speak  again  till  she  could 
steady  her  voice. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Dr.  Rowland,  but  I  feel 
so  homesick  and  depressed  to-night  that  I  can- 
not keep  it  to  myself.  Mrs.  Harrison  promised 
me,  when  we  sailed  in  July,  that  she  would  follow 
me  out  here  in  a  month  ;  Robert  Forrester  and 
his  sister  were  coming,  and  we  should  have  had 
such  a  delightful  party,  instead  of  this  dreary 
roaming  about  with  mamma.  Now  this  morning 
I  have  a  letter  from  Gertrude,  saying  that  they 


248  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

are  not  coming,  but  were  all  enjoying  themselves 
at  Newport  together.  I  suppose  you  know  all 
about  it,  as  your  wife  was  of  the  party." 

"  No,"  Jack  said,  "  his  letters  had  not  come ; 
he  should  find  them  in  London,  with  the  latest 
news." 

He  hoped  that  the  light  was  not  bright  enough 
to  show  his  face,  if  he  looked  as  surprised  as  he 
felt ;  and  though  he  tried  to  say  something  of 
their  all  enjoying  themselves,  it  stuck  in  his 
throat. 

"Ah,  well,  you  will  hear  in  good  time,  if" 
—  with  rather  a  disagreeable  laugh  —  "  Mrs. 
Rowland  tells  you  all  her  gay  doings.  I  fancy 
girls  always  keep  back  a  few  of  their  adventures. 
Excuse  me  for  speaking  of  her  as  a  girl,  but  she 
always  seems  so  young  and  inexperienced,  don't 
you  know  ? " 

"  That  is  a  difficulty  to  be  cured  with  time, 
Miss  Morris,"  he  said,  rising  ;  and  added,  with  a 
desire  to  leave  her  no  ground  for  comment," 
"  Newport  will  be  delightful  just  now." 

"Very,  and  a  charming  party  to  enjoy  it  with. 
I  always  say  that  you  two  are  a  most  comfortable 
couple,  each  going  your  'own  way  so  easily.  It 
is  so  nice  in  you  to  like  to  have  your  wife  amuse 
herself  while  you  are  away.  It's  rather  a  gay  set, 
you  know.  I  should  not  think  Robert  Forrester 
was  the  safest  possible  companion  for  a  young 
woman." 


OUTREMER.  249 

"  The  care  of  my  wife  may  be  intrusted  to 
me,  Miss  Morris.  Mr.  Forrester  is  a  gentleman, 
and  my  friend  ;  and  I  should  be  very  unwilling  to 
admit  that  he  was  an  unsafe  friend  for  any  wo- 
man. I  had  supposed  you  knew  him  better." 

Sting  for  sting!  But  he  could  not  help  it. 
He  had  risen  and  offered  her  his  hand.  No 
other  words  were  possible  now  between  them 
except  a  parting  message  to  Mrs.  Morris  ;  and  he 
left  her. 

As  Jack  walked  back  to  his  hotel  he  felt  as  if 
he  had  again  shouldered  the  burden  which  he 
thought  to  have  thrown  aside.  Not  that  he  was 
angry  with  Madge;  no,  dear  little  woman,  she 
was  honest  in  her  assurances,  when  she  wrote 
them,  that  she  should  have  no  pleasure  till  his 
return.  Then  had  come  this  offer  of  entertain- 
ment always  irresistible  to  her.  To  be  sure  she 
should  have  told  him  ;  but  perhaps  she  had  not 
gone.  That  jealous  woman  was  capable  even  of 
a  falsehood. 

^  But  it  was  all  a  wretched  affair  for  himself  and 
for  Madge,  and  must  be  stopped  then  and  there 
if  he  had  power  to  do  it.  There  was  a  half-writ- 
ten letter  in  his  portfolio,  which  had  better  be 
finished  and  posted  to-night  ;  for  he  might  feel 
too  tired  with  his  journey  to  do  it  to-morrow  in 
London  ;  though  it  seemed  as  if  he  could  never 
feel  more  tired  than  in  this  sultry  atmosphere, 


25O       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

with  his  head  aching  and  throbbing  —  he  could 
scarcely  tell  if  with  fever,  or  the  intolerable  an- 
noyance of  this  new  idea  that  his  wife's  name  was 
being  discussed.  He  had  only  thought  of  it  as 
resting  between  himself  and  her  ;  now  he  must 
be  firm  for  her  own  sake.  He  would  try  not  to 
be  harsh. 

He  wrote  as  follows  :  "  A  report  came  to-day 
of  a  party  planned  for  Newport,  of  which  you 
were  to  be  one.  I  should  have  been  glad  to 
have  heard  of  it  first  from  you,  but  perhaps  I 
shall  find  letters  in  London  with  good  reasons 
for  your  going.  However,  you  will  be  at  home 
again  by  the  time  this  reaches  you,  and  I  hope 
none  the  worse  for  your  gayety.  But,  my  dear- 
est Margaret,  I  have  something  to  say  to  you 
which  I  would  rather  write  now  than  have  on  my 
mind  to  speak  when  I  have  the  happiness  of 
being  with  you  again.  I  cannot  begin  with  re- 
proof, but  am  very  anxious  that  you  should  know 
that  my  feeling  is  even  stronger  than  when  I 
left  you,  concerning  your  intimacy  with  Mrs.  Har- 
rison's gay  set.  I  cannot  bear  to  feel  that  my 
wife  is  spoken  of  as  a  woman  who  is  willing  to 
receive  from  others  the  admiration  which  her 
husband  only  has  the  right  to  offer  her.  My  child, 
you  do  not  know  what  perfection  you  represent 
to  me !  I  am  as  much  your  lover  as  I  was  the 
day  I  married  you  ;  only  let  me  be  your  friend  as 


OUTREMER.  251 

well,  and  believe  me  that  you  can  have  none 
other  as  safe  as  vour  most  devoted  husband. — 
J.  H." 

It  was  a  relief  to  him  when  the  letter  was  out 
of  his  hands,  and  on  its  way  to  her ;  it  seemed, 
at  least,  as  if  he  had  put  out  a  protecting  hand, 
though  he  would  not  believe  that  she  needed  it. 
The  next  day  he  too  had  started  with  a  feverish 
restlessness  upon  him  which  made  every  moment 
seem  intolerable  when  he  was  not  speeding  on 
towards  Margaret  —  towards  the  home  which 
he  was  reproaching  himself  for  having  left.  If 
the  letter  were  to  be  of  any  service,  it  was  well 
that  it  was  on  its  way  ;  for  weary  brain  and  hand 
could  never  have  accomplished  the  writing  of  it 
by  the  time  Jack  reached  London,  where  the 
night  was  spent  in  one  long  nightmare  of  imag- 
ining himself  half  a  dozen  different  people,  all 
struggling  to  rescue  Madge  from  some  terrible 
indefinite  trouble. 

At  Hartfield,  life  ran  on  for  a  while  as  smoothly 
as  if  no  foreign  element  had  ever  been  intro- 
duced into  it,  and  little  Phil  himself  had  no  more 
contented  enjoyment  of  each  day  as  it  came  than 
his  mother  seemed  to  have.  To  Rachel  it  was 
an  interlude  of  such  happiness  as  she  had  never 
dared  to  think  of  in  her  blindness,  lest  it  should 
make  her  misfortune  seem  too  intolerable.  The 
first  jar  was  the  arrival  of  a  letter  from  Mrs. 


FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 


Harrison.  Various  things,  she  said,  had  occurred 
to  prevent  the  autumn  trip  abroad;  but  she  should 
stay  at  Newport,  and  had  invited  a  large  party  to 
fill  the  house.  Then  came  a  list  of  names,  which 
included  all  whom  Madge  considered  most  de- 
lightful, and  her  husband  most  objectionable,  in 
their  circle  of  acquaintance.  The  season  of 
gayety  was  over,  but  they  should  have  within 
themselves  the  materials  for  every  kind  of  enjoy- 
ment, —  theatricals,  music,  outdoor  and  indoor 
life.  Everything  was  arranged,  and  she  must 
come,  for  a  fortnight  at  least.  No  denial  possible. 
Day,  hour,  and  place  of  meeting  given. 

The  letter  came  one  morning  when  she  was  out 
in  the  lovely  sunshine  with  Phil,  enjoying  it  as 
only  autumn  sunshine  can  be  enjoyed,  when  one 
says,  "  Still  one  more  enchanting  day  so  like  the 
June  that  seems  such  a  long  way  back."  Down 
upon  her  knees  in  the  grass,  quite  engrossed  with 
the  household  arrangements  of  a  hen  with  a  late 
brood  of  chickens,  who,  not  unlike  some  mothers 
with  more  pretensions  to  intellect,  was  quite 
unable  to  manage  her  own  family  and  equally 
indignant  with  any  one  who  attempted  to  assist 
her.  Phil  was  in  high  glee,  rescuing  the  stray 
chicks  from  the  neighboring  forests  of  clover 
where  they  had  lost  themselves,  when  amidst  the 
cackle  and  chirp  came  a  sho"ut  from  the  house- 
yard  where  grandpa  was  holding  up  a  letter,  and 


OUTREMER.  253 

Phil  was  off  like  a  shot  in  hopes  of  seeing  the 
foreign  post-mark  which  he  knew  so  well.  He 
came  back  disgusted.  "  Hodid  old  letter  ;  guess 
I  frow  it  in  'e  pond,"  he  grumbled.  But  Madge 
took  it  and  sent  him  back  to  his  play,  while  she 
went  off  to  read  her  letter  in  the  shade.  Hen 
and  chickens,  Phil  and  Hartfield,  faded  out  of 
sight.  What  a  different  life  it  told  of!  And  the 
longing  for  it  all  came  back  ;  for  here  would  be  all 
the  excitement  of  the  last  winter,  and  with  no  one 
to  say  a  reproving  '  no '  to  anything.  She  started 
up  to  find  Rachel,  who  must  be  asked  first,  and 
with  that  came  a  slight  qualm  as  to  the  possible 
answer.  But  no  ;  nothing  should  interfere  ;  and 
as  to  asking  her  sister,  there  was  no  necessity  for 
that.  She  should  only  tell  Rachel  that  the  invi- 
tation had  come,  and  consult  with  her  about  her 
arrangements  ;  certainly  not  ask  her  advice  — 
that  would  only  suggest  an  objection. 

Rachel  was  found  in  the  pleasant  retreat  which 
Phil  had  christened  "  Gamma's  goody-room," 
where  she  was  tying  up  and  labelling  glass  jars 
filled  with  every  shade  of  tempting  crimson  and 
gold-colored  preserves.  Even  Madge  could  not 
help  being  struck  by  the  contrast  in  their  present 
ways  as  she  came  in,  full  of  excitement  about  a 
life  of  which  Rachel  knew  nothing,  and  finding 
her  busily  occupied  in  work  which  they  had  so 
often  shared  together  in  the  days  when  every- 


254  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

thing  was  held  in  common  between  them.  She 
came  in  looking  so  radiant  that  Rachel,  seeing 
the  letter  in  her  hand,  thought  that  Jack  must 
have  written  to  announce  his  speedy  return. 

"  Well,  what  is  it,  dear  ?  "  she  said  ;  "  you  look 
as  if  you  had  some  good  news." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  the  most  delightful  invitation. 
Listen,  Rachel.  And  then  I  want  to  consult  you 
just  how  to  arrange  matters  for  my  going/'  So 
she  read,  and  Rachel  listened ;  and  when  it 
appeared  what  was  the  plan,  she  found  it  very 
difficult  to  fix  her  attention,  so  engrossed  was  she 
in  thinking  how  she  was  to  put  her  objections 
forcibly  enough  to  Madge,  for  she  foresaw  rebel- 
lion. The  letter  ended,  there  was  a  pause. 
Rachel  bent  over  her  work,  apparently  too  oc- 
cupied with  designing  an  effective  Q  in  the 
"quince"  that  she  was  marking  to  speak  at  once, 
and  Madge  said,  a  little  impatiently  : 

"  There,  Rachel,  do  let  the  preserves  go  for  a 
minute  and  attend  to  me,  for  I  want  to  know 
about  the  trains,  and  I  must  answer  this  letter  to 
go  by  the  afternoon  mail." 

"  You  have  decided  to  go,  then  ?  "  Rachel  said, 
trying  to  put  a  warning  tone  of  disapproval  into 
her  voice,  but  avoiding  looking  at  Madge.  She 
would  be  firm,  but  she  felt  a  most  arrant  coward. 

"  I  decided,  as  soon  as  I  read  the  letter,  that  it 
was  the  most  delightful  plan  I  ever  heard  of. 


OUTREMER.  255 

Everything  is  as  easy  as  possible.  Phil  will 
stay  here,  and  I  shall  be  back  again  before  there 
is  any  chance  of  Jack's  arriving." 

"  How  do  you  think  Jack  would  like  it  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,  if  he  was  in  the  same  mood  that 
he  went  away  in  ;  but  you  see  how  he  has 
changed,  and  how  good-natured  and  reasonable 
he  has  grown.  He  could  not  want  to  prevent  me 
from  enjoying  myself  while  he  is  away."  > 

"  Yes  ;  but,  Madge,  it  depends  upon  who  you 
enjoy  yourself  with  ;  and  I  thought  these  were 
the  people  he  did  not  fancy  for  your  friends." 

"  Oh,  that  was  only  Jack's  way  of  wanting  me 
all  to  himself.  Now,  Rachie  dear,  don't  look  dis- 
approving, for  you  know  I'm  going,  and  you 
must  not  find  any  fault." 

"  I'm  not  finding  any  fault.  I  only  want  you 
to  think  about  it  wisely  ;  and  if  you  think  / 
don't  know,  why  not  go  and  ask  Helen  Lee's 
advice  ? " 

"  Good  gracious,  Rachel !  What's  the  good  of 
asking  advice  from  a  person  who  does  not  want 
to  do  the  thing  herself?" 

"  At  least  she  would  be  a  good  judge  whether 
you  had  better  go  or  not." 

"  I  don't  want  her  to  judge  about  me  at  all.  If 
I  were  going  to  give  it  up  1  should  do  it  for  you  ; 
but  I  think  I  might  be  trusted  for  myself."  She 
walked  off  to  the  window  and  stood  listlessly  pull- 


256       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

ing  leaves  from  the  vine  outside,  Rachel  watching 
anxiously,  and  wondering  which  string  would  be 
the  wisest  to  pull  first. 

"It  would  really  be  a  worry  to  me  about  your 
health  if  you  were  to  go,"  she  said  presently. 
"  You  have  been  growing  stronger  and  better 
every  day  since  you  came  home,  and  I  do  so  want 
to  have  you  look-  like  your  old  self  when  Jack 
comes  back." 

"  There  was  nothing  the  matter  with  me, 
Rachel.  It  was  only  the  heat  ;  and  I  was  tired 
after  the  winter,  I  suppose ;  and  then  —  everything 
went  wrong  the  last  part  of  the  time." 

•Rachel  left  her  work,  and  going  to  stand  by 
Madge  at  the  window,  said:  "Just  remember 
that  first  night,  dear,  after  you  came,  and  how 
thankful  you  would  have  been  to  be  at  peace  with 
your  husband.  Now  you  understand  each  other, 
and  is  this  visit  —  is  anything  —  worth  the  risk 
of  hurting  his  feelings  ? "  Silence  was  such  a 
hopeful  sign  with  Madge  that  Rachel  ventured  to 
say  :  "  My  advice  is  worth  less  than  Helen's,  as 
far  as  my  imagining  what  would  induce  me  to  go 
to  Newport,  but  I  know  you,  dear  ;  you  never 
would  enjoy  yourself  after  you  were  there,  with 
the  thought  of  having  to  explain  it  all  to  Jack." 

Another  shower  of  the  bright  red  autumn 
leaves  came  from  Madge's  fingers  before  she 
said :  "  Of  course  I  am  not  going  to  Newport 


OUTREMER. 


entirely  against  your  judgment  ;  but  it  is  a  horrid 
disappointment.  I  wish  Jack  would  —  "  She  did 
not  finish  her  wish  or  return  her  sister's  kiss  ;  but 
Rachel  knew  that  the  letter  which  went  to  the 
post  that  afternoon  would  not  be  one  of  accept- 
ance. 

Often  in  autumn  the  weather  goes  on  with  an 
uninterrupted  flow  of  sunshine  till  one  day  there 
comes  a  chill.  It  does  not  last,  and  the  sunlight 
breaks  out  again  ;  but  we  say  the  summer  is  over, 
and  now  we  must  expect  rain  and  clouds  and  fogs. 
So  with  Madge.  The  failure  of  the  Newport 
plan  seemed  to  have  put  an  end  to  her  cheery 
enjoyment  of  the  country  life.  Her  mother  wor- 
ried over  her  want  of  spirits  and  appetite  ;  but 
only  Rachel  knew  that  the  change  had  come  with 
the  return  of  her  longing  for  excitement,  and  that 
the  days  when  she  was  too  tired  to  walk,  too  rest- 
less to  sit  still,  and  fretful  even  with  her  little 
Phil,  were  those  when  there  came  a  letter  from 
Mrs.  Harrison  telling  of  their  gay  doings,  and 
urging  her  to  change  her  mind.  One  thing 
cheered  Rachel  :  to  see  that  Madge  had  strength 
enough  to  resist  the  urgings.  To  be  sure  it  was 
under  most  watchful  care,  and  Rachel  was  ready 
at  all  times  to  listen  and  sympathize  and  repeat, 
"  Think  how  disappointed  Jack  would  have  been 
if  you  had  gone,  and  how  he  will  appreciate  what 
you  gave  up  for  him." 
17 


258       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

EDGE-TOOLS. 

WITH  one  person  Rachel  felt  as  if  she  were 
sharing  her  anxieties,  though  without  the  comfort 
of  words  spoken.  David,  though  frequently  ab- 
sent, still  called  the  farm  his  home,  and  when 
there  he  and  Madge  were  very  constant  compan- 
ions, going  off  on  walks  and  drives,  drawn  still 
more  together  by  his  care  and  fondness  for  her 
boy. 

Madge  used  to  laugh  at  him  for  being  made  a 
slave  twice  in  his  life ;  but  Rachel,  with  the  key 
to  his  heart  which  he  had  given  her,  saw  how  he 
rejoiced  in  the  outlet  of  tenderness  he  might 
show  to  the  child  of  the  woman  he  had  loved  in 
the  past  and  cherished  now  with  as  much  care  as 
if  she  had  belonged  to  him.  It  was  not  in 
Madge,  her  sister  knew,  to  be  on  such  intimate 
terms  as  she  was  with  David  without  showing 
somewhat  of  her  doubts  and  worries,  and  Rachel 
often  wondered  how  much  he  suspected  or  Madge 
confided,  till  one  evening,  when  Madge  had  gone 
early  to  bed  with  a  headache,  the  two  were  left 


EDGE-TOOLS.  259 

alone,  he  poring  over  accounts  and  plans,  she 
sitting  with  her  knitting  in  a  shaded  corner  by  the 
fire.  It  might  almost  have  been  a  year  ago,  but 
for  the  watchful  look  of  her  eyes  turned  upon 
him  every  now  and  then,  as  he  sat  engrossed  in 
his  work.  Not  so  engrossed,  however,  but  that 
he  said,  suddenly : 

"  Rachel,  is  anything  really  amiss  with  Madge  ? 
Are  not  she  and  her  husband  happy  ? " 

"I  don't  think  at  this  moment  they  are  happy, 
because  they  do  not  understand  each  other ;  but 
it's  not  for  want  of  love." 

"  You  do  think  that,  then  ?  I  couldn't  stand 
it —  •  He  stopped  with  compressed  lips,  and 
Rachel  said  : 

"  I  know  it  is  so.  But  what  has  Madge  said  to 
you  ?"  She  was  only  too  thankful  to  speak,  if  she 
might  do  so  without  betraying  confidence. 

"Oh,  various  things,  and  at  different  times; 
but  I  could  not  help  piecing  them  together, 
though  I  did  not  think  it  was  best  for  herself 
to  let  her  talk  out  to  me,  even  if  she  had  had 
trouble  with  her  husband  ;  but  this  afternoon  she 
burst  out  crying,  and  said  that  if  Jack  cared  for 
her  any  longer,  he  would  not  be  so  hard  on  her." 

He  started  from  his  seat,  and  strode  up  and 
down  the  room.  "  Hard  on  that  child  who  should 
be  a  blessing  on  any  man's  life  1  What  did  he 
take  her  away  from  us  for  ?  God  knows  how  she 
would  have  been  cared  for  here ! " 


26O       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

"  No,  David,  not  hard  on  her  ;  he  loves  her 
dearly,  and  is  full  of  consideration  for  her ;  but 
disappointed  he  has  been,  and  I  don't  wonder, 
even  if  it  is  Madge." 

"  But,  Rachel,  I  don't  understand.  The  man 
comes  here  and  takes  a  girl  who  has  lived  in  a 
farm-house  all  her  days,  and  sets  her  down  in  a 
city  life,  where  everything  is  strange  and  exciting 
to  her.  What's  the  wonder  if  she  should  be  car- 
ried away  at  first  ;  he  is  older  and  knows  the 
ways  of  the  world,  and  ought  to  take  the  respon- 
sibility of  looking  after  her." 

"And  that's  just  what  he  has  done,  and  she 
cannot  bear  it.  As  long  as  you  know  so  much, 
let  me  tell  you  the  rest ;  it's  only  fair  to  Jack,  and 
I  think  you  will  feel  for  him." 

So  she  told  the  story  as  she  had  gathered  it 
during  her  visit  to  them,  and  what  she  had  known 
of  the  friends  whom  Madge  preferred,  —  of  Jack's 
letter,  and  his  reasons  for  going  abroad ;  and 
David  listened,  with  the  weight  growing  heavier, 
as  he  could  not  but  think  that  her  chances  would 
have  been  better  for  quiet  happiness  with  him, 
even  if  she  had  started  with  no  stronger  feeling 
than  the  affection  and  trust  in  which  she  had 
grown  up. 

To-day  Madge  had  been  much  disturbed  at  the 
arrival  of  the  letter  which  poor  Jack  had  finished 
on  that  last  night  in  Paris,  —  himself  so  ill  and 


EDGE-TOOLS.  26 1 

unhappy.  Rachel  found  her  smiling  over  it  in 
her  own  room,  and  Madge  detained  her  while 
she  read  scraps  of  it  aloud.  Jack  was  so  good 
in  remembering  what  she  had  liked  when  they 
were  in  Paris  ;  he  had  bought  the  loveliest  china 
and  glass  for  her  dinner  parties  next  winter. 
Oh,  dear!  how  pleasant  it  was  to  hear  him  talk 
about  it,  and  to  think  of  their  being  together 
again !  And  how  more  than  good  in  him  to 
bother  himself  over  ordering  dresses  ;  for  if  there 
was  anything  which  Jack  hated  it  was  shopping. 
"  Oh,  Rachel  !  how  I  hope,  he  will  be  pleased 
with  me  when  I  wear  them."  Rachel  laughed. 
"  He  is  so  fastidious  about  women,  they  must  be 
much  more  than  pretty  to  suit  him,  and  it  is  that 
something  more  that  I'm  afraid  of  failing  in. 
Ah,  well  !  let  me  only  have  him  back,  and 
then  —  " 

She  read  on  in  silence  till  suddenly  there  came 
a  wondering  "  Why !  "  —  then  a  word  or  two 
more ;  and  when  Rachel  looked  rather  than  asked 
what  she  had  found  in  the  letter,  it  was  flung  to- 
ward her,  and  Madge  blazed  out  — 

"  Read  that  ending  !  It  is  too  hard  !  I  gave 
up  what  I  wanted  of  all  things,  and  I  might  as 
well  have  had  the  pleasure,  if  I  was  to  have  the 
credit,  of  going.  He  might  have  trusted  me ! 
No  !  I  will  not  forgive  him  for  being  so  unkind  ! " 

Rachel  read,  and  said,  gravely:   "I  can't  see 


262       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

what  you  have  to  resent,  Madge.  You  would 
have  gone  willingly  when  the  invitation  came; 
and  Jack  only  fears  your  giving  way  to  the  first 
impulse  ;  he  could  not  speak  more  gently." 

"  I  don't  much  care  how  he  says  it  if  he  means 
to  interfere  with  all  my  pleasure.  I  thought  that 
he  would  have  come  home  so  different,  and  now 
it  is  the  old  story :  he  is  to  choose  my  friends, 
and  if  he  does  that,  I  might  as  well  have  stayed  in 
Hartfield,  for  all  the  pleasure  I  shall  have.  No, 
Rachel,  you  may  look  as  disapproving  as  you 
like  ;  you  know  nothing  at  all  about  it.  If  I  give 
way  now  I  may  as  well  give  up  everything  at 
once.  If  Jack  would  only  be  reasonable,  we  could 
each  enjoy  ourselves  ;  but  because  we  are  married 
is  no  reason  why  he  should  tyrannize  over  me." 

Rachel  would  not  even  stay  to  listen  ;  quiet  dis- 
pleasure would  have  much  more  effect  than  any 
defence  of  Jack,  which  wou^d  only  bring  contra- 
diction and  more  words  for  Madge  to  repent. 

In  justice  to  her  brother-in-law,  Rachel  told 
David  even  of  this  scene  ;  he  could  not  under- 
stand the  whole  situation  without  it ;  and  it  almost 
seemed  as  if  the  happiness  of  the  two  might  de- 
pend upon  what  influence  she  and  David  might 
have  in  bringing  Madge  to  her  better  self  before 
her  husband's  return.  David  listened  in  restless 
silence,  going  back  and  forth  from  window  to  fire- 
place. 


EDGE-TOOLS.  263 

"  And  you  and  I,"  he  said,  "  have  got  to  stand 
by  and  see  this  child  unhappy  ? " 

"  For  a  while  I  suppose  it  must  be  so,  if  Madge 
is  going  to  fight  against  her  husband's  judgment ; 
but  I  cannot  think  that  such  a  man  as  he  will  not 
find  the  way  to  soothe  her." 

"  Tell  me  one  thing,"  he  said  ;  but  it  seemed  a 
very  hard  question  to  put  satisfactorily,  for  he 
waited  so  long,  leaning  over  the  back  oi  a  chair 
and  gazing  into  the  fire,  that  Rachel  had  taken 
up  the  thread  of  her  anxious  thoughts  again, 
when  he  said,  abruptly,  "  When  Rowland  objects 
to  Madge's  friends,  is  it  only  this  gay  lady  and 
people  like  her,  or  is  there  —  in  short,  does  Madge 
have  attention  from  men  ?  Is  that  the  trouble  ?" 

"  If  there  is  any  trouble,  it  begins  and  ends  with 
Mrs.  Harrison.  Of  course  Madge  would  put  her 
friend  in  the  best  light  to  me  ;  but  I  think  she  is 
a  woman  who  really  would  think  she  was  showing 
q.  kind  interest  in  Madge  by  feeding  her  vanity. 
I  can  tell  you,  David,  it  is  a  world  that  we,  at 
least  I,  know  nothing  about.  Of  course  I  know 
from  the  Lees  how  good  and  delightful  people 
who  live  in  the  midst  of  it  can  be  ;  but  some- 
times it  seems  to  me  as  if  poor  Madge  were  swim- 
ming in  a  sea  of  difficulties,  and  nothing  'but  my 
little  straws  of  advice  to  cling  to.  I  suppose  I 
feel  discouraged  to-night ;  it  is  so  hard  to  see  her 
unhappy,  whether  she  is  to  blame  or  not." 


264       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

*'  It  would  be  of  no  use  if  you  were  to  give  her 
a  life-boat,  unless  she  was  willing  to  stay  in  it. 
The  truth  is,  Rachel,  that  Madge  has  all  that  a 
woman  can  want.  A  good,  honorable  man  for 
a  husband,  and  no  worries  about  health  or  money. 
If  he  were  a  harsh  man,  or  even  a  dull  one,  —  but 
I  can't  see  how  she  can  want  a  pleasanter  com- 
panion than  she  has  in  her  own  home.  I  wish  I 
knew,  Rachel,  if  there  is  any  one  person  —  man 
I  mean  —  who  attracts  her." 

"  Dr.  Rowland  is  not  a  man  to  discuss  his  wife 
freely,  even  with  me,  about  a  thing  of  that  kind ; 
but  I  feel  very  sure  that  when  he  spoke  in  his 
letter  about  her  receiving  admiration  from  others 
beside  her  husband,  he  did  mean  one  particular 
person  —  perhaps  you  recollect  him  —  Mr.  For- 
rester, who  used  to  stay  at  Mrs.  Lee's." 

"  I  think  I  do  remember  seeing  him  about 
here  ;  but  what  does  the  fellow  mean  by  paying 
attention  to  another  man's  wife  ?  " 

"  Why,  David,  I  really  don't  believe  that  he 
means  any  harm  at  all.  If  it  happened  here, 
among  us  busy  people,  I  suppose  it  would  be  a 
serious  wrong ;  but  there,  in  a  great  place  like 
New  York,  they  have  so  little  to  do  that  they 
just  go  about  where  they  are  most  amused.  But, 
then,  people  can  do  a  great  deal  of  harm  without 
meaning  it  ;  and  Madge  loves  admiration,  and 
her  husband  is  an  old  story,  —  that's  all,"  she  said, 
with  a  sigh  which  showed  how  much  it  was. 


EDGE-TOOLS.  265 

The  sigh  was  echoed  as  David  answered  : 
"  Well,  I'm  sorry  for  Rowland  ;  sorry  for  us  all, 
forjjjat  matter  !  But  I  shall  not  let  you  sit  up 
.longer,  Rachel ;  you  must  go  and  worry  your- 
self ^o  sleep.  I'm  glad  we've  had  this  talk,  for 
possibly  there'll  be  a  chance  for  a  word  here  and 
there  ;  but  it  rests  with  herself,  dear  child,  after 
all." 

Rachel  hoped  much  from  Dr.  Rowland's  next 
letter,  as  the  offending  passage  had  been  written 
in  evident  haste.  So  far,  the  letters  had  come  at 
an  interval  of  eVery  few  days,  but  when  a  week 
passed  without  a  word,  she  felt  anxious  ;  Madge 
indignant  —  but  Rachel  thought  it  was  the  anger 
of  alarm.  Madge  was  growing  restless,  too,  tired 
of  the  quiet  life  ;  and  as  she  heard  of  one  and 
another  returning  to  town,  she  wished  herself 
there,  and  'when  alone  with  her  sister  did  not 
hesitate  to  say  so. 

One  afternoon,  as  Rachel  and  her  mother  sat 
together  at  their  sewing,  Mrs.  Anderson,  whose 
rocking-chair  commanded  a  Jview  of  the  gate,  said, 
"  Who  is  Madge  bringing  home  with  her  ?  one  of 
her  Boston  friends,  I  wonder  ?  Come  and  see, 
Rachel." 

"  I  should  only  know  by  the  voice,"  Rachel  said ; 
but  still  she  came  to  look  at  the  tall,  gentlemanly 
figure  coming  up  the  walk  by  Madge's  side,  - 
certainly  no  native  of  Hartfi eld,  —  and  the  first 


266       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

tones  which  she  heard,  as  he  came  on  to  the 
porch,  told  her  that  it  was  Mr.  Forrester.  A 
more  unwelcome  guest,  in  Rachel's  eyes,  could 
not  well  have  appeared  ;  and  yet,  with  all  the 
uncomfortable  association  which  he  brought  to 
her,  she  could  not  but  feel  the  cordial  grace  of 
manner  with  which  he  expressed,  far  more  than 
in  words,  his  pleasure  in  her  restored  happiness. 
He  had  just  arrived  from  Boston  ;  had  come  for 
a  few  days  among  the  hills  after  Newport  ;  was 
staying  at  the  -hotel,  and  on  his  way  here  when 
he  met  Mrs.  Rowland.  Madge's  ladyhood  was 
something  far  more  real  than  the  lessons  learned 
in  her  adopted  life,  and  she  introduced  Mr.  For- 
rester into  her  own  home  as  easily  and  simply  as 
she  would  have  met  him  in  his  natural  surround- 
ings ;  but  at  the  same  time  she  could  not  help 
wondering  on  what  ground  he  and  her  mother 
were  to  meet.  Mr.  Forrester  himself  felt  a  little 
surprise  at  stepping  into  an  atmosphere  where  he 
saw  at  once  that  he  was  to  be  taken  at  a  valua- 
tion quite  apart  from  any  weight  which  position 
or  money  might  give  him,  —  where,  indeed,  he 
must  exert  himself  to  be  acceptable,  as  much  as 
if  he  had  strayed  unknown  into  a  courtly  circle 
instead  of  into  this  cheery  farm-house  parlor,  with 
.fire  blazing  in  the  wide  Franklin  stove,  and  the 
sun  pouring  in  over  the  stands  of  geraniums  and 
chrysanthemums  in  the  windows.  He  was  re- 


EDGE-TOOLS.  267 

lieved  and  delighted  too  to  find  his  attractive 
little  friend  living  with  nothing  about  her  to  break 
the  illusion  of  her  own  charm  ;  and  Mrs.  Ander- 
son was  in  perfect  keeping  with  her  surroundings. 
She  received  Mr.  Forrester  with  the  kindly  hos- 
pitality she  would  have  shown  her  clergyman  ;  not 
as  an  every-day  visitor,  but  as  one  whom  she  was 
glad  to  make  especially  welcome,  and  he  found 
himself  really  anxious  to  appear  what  he  could 
imagine  should  be  the  ideal  gentleman  of  this  out- 
of-ths-world  home.  So  the  talk  went  pleasantly 
on,  each  daughter  feeling  in  her  individual  way 
that,  her  mother  was  appreciated. 

"  My  daughters  tell  me,"  Mrs.  Anderson  said, 
as  Mr.  Forrester  made  some  inquiries  about  her 
window  gardening,  "  that  in  the  city  you  even 
have  lilies  of  the  valley  in  the  winter.  I  don't 
think  I  should  like  that,  for  I  want  my  spring 
flowers  to  look  forward  to." 

Flowers  were  to  Mrs.  Anderson  what  hef  little 
children  had  been  —  something  which  could  not 
have  a  life  without  her  care  and  petting,  and  they 
repaid  her  as  flowers  and  babies  do  repay,  by  let- 
ting you  enjoy  the  perfection  of  their  loveliness 
in  return  for  your  time  and  thought, 

"  But  do  you  think  there  can  be  too  much  of  de- 
lightful things  ?"  answered  Mr.  Forrester;  "and 
if  you  can  have  the  best  of  spring  and  winter  to- 
gether, why  not  ? " 


268  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

"  I  dare  say  you're  right,  sir,"  she  said  ;  "  but 
you  see,  here  in  the  country,  we  hoard  up  our 
excitements,  and  when  the  first  lilies  come,  we 
know  that  we  really  have  done  with  cold  weather ; 
and  then  it  used  to  be  my  Madge's  birthday  pres- 
ent," —  looking  at  her  daughter,  who  stood  close 
by,  with  an  expression  which  made  Mr.  Forrester 
think  what  a  wonderfully  pretty  pair  they  were  ! 

"  I'm  afraid  we  don't  hoard  up  anything  in 
town,"  he  said,  "  but  take  it  all  as  it  comes,  and 
then  are  desperately  tired  of  ourselves  by  spring." 

"  I  should  not  like  to  think  that,"  Mrs.  Ander- 
son said,  looking  a  little  anxiously  at  Madge,  as 
if  there  was  a  suggestion  of  harm  for  her  in  his 
off-hand  speech  ;  "  when  we  are  snowed-up  here 
we  are  very  happy  and  comfortable  in  our  way, 
and  we  often  think  how  many  interesting  things 
there  are  to  comfort  people  for  living  in  dull 
streets.  We  used  to  imagine  it,  but  now  my 
daughter  tells  us  all  about  it,  —  the  pictures,  the 
music,  and  the  beautiful  houses,  —  it  seems  to  us 
as  if  there  were  a  great  many  privileges  in  such 
a  life  ;  but  then  I've  known  people  make  a  bad 
use  even  of  liking  to  read." 

There  was  a  little  wistful  look  of  anxiety  in  her 
eyes,  even  for  him,  as  of  wishing  nothing  but  the 
best  for  any  one  at  all  associated  with  her  child's 
life.  He  could  not  have  answered  her  earnest- 
ness and  simplicity  carelessly,  and  said,  with  as 


EDGE-TOOLS.  269 

sincere  a  wish  that  she  should  think  well  of 
him  : 

"  Everything  has  its  drawbacks.  If  we  have 
more  interesting  things  to  fill  up  our  time  than 
you  do,  they  come  so  fast  that  we  cannot  help 
being  tired  with  it  all.  We  do  work  hard  some- 
times, and  for  very  good  things.  Did  Mrs.  How- 
land  tell  you  of  our  charity  theatricals  ? "  * 

And  then  he  managed  to  give  such  an  interest- 
ing account  of  the  Children's  Hospital  and  his 
sister's  interest  in  it  (interspersed  with  praise  of 
Dr.  Howland's  goodness  and  his  wife's  talents), 
that  though  Mrs.  Anderson  had  been  rather  puz- 
zled to  reconcile  Madge's  doing  such  an  unheard- 
of  thing  as  to  appear  on  the  stage,  with  her  ideas 
of  what  was  womanly  and  right,  —  quite  as  impos- 
sible to  her  mother  as  if  she  had  voted,  or  gone 
to  Congress,  —  all  her  objections  were  merged 
in  her  tender-hearted  sympathy  for  the  beautiful 
charity.  After  he  had  gone,  Mrs.  Anderson  said 
to  Rachel : 

"  That  seems  a  very  good  young  man,  dear, 
though  I  suppose  life  in  a  city  does  carry  young 
folks  away  out  of  themselves.  He  could  not  stay 
to  tea,  but  I  told  him  we  should  be  very  glad  to 
see  him  whenever  he  could  come." 

So  Mr.  Forrester  was  installed  as  friend  of  the 
family  as  long  as  he  might  stay  in  Hartfield.  Not 
a  satisfactory  state  of  things  to  Rachel ;  but  she 


2/O       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

felt  as  if  she  could  as  soon  have  suggested  any 
harm  in  the  matter  to.little  Phil  as  to  her  mother, 
who  treated  him  as  a  waif  mercifully  thrown  in 
her  way  to  be  helped  with  good  advice  and  the 
best  of  all  the  things  which  she  and  Nancy  knew 
how  to  concoct. 

Rachel  wondered  how  Madge  could  have  any 
irtterest  left  to  spare  from  the  anxiety  which,  to 
judge  from  herself,  her  sister  must  be  feeling  at 
Dr.  Rowland's  continued  silence.  Madge  de- 
clared that  she  did  not  feel  in  the  least  anxious  ; 
this  was  the  time  that  Jack  had  fixed  for  sailing  ; 
he  was  on  his  way,  and  would  arrive  some  day 
and  expect  to  find  her  in  a  proper  state  of  sub- 
mission. Any  suggestion  of  Rachel's  was  met 
with  a  petulance  which  she  excused  on  the  score 
that  Madge  was  really  unhappy  and  anxious. 
But  the  irritability  was  kept  for  Rachel,  and  Mr. 
Forrester  thought  he  never  had  seen  her  so 
charming  as  now,  when  her  gayety  was  shaded 
every  now  and  then  with  a  touch  of  melancholy 
which  gave  her  a  new  interest.  Altogether  this 
farm-house  life  was  an  idyl  coming  after  his  sum- 
mer's intercourse  with  conventional  men  and 
women  —  and  no  one  to  interfere  with  hrs  sole 
enjoyment  of  the  situation,  except  the  glowering 
cousin,  who,  he  rather  thought,  was  mistaking 
jealousy  of  a  better-looking  man  for  a  high  sense 
of  duty,  —  which  would  have  made  him  a  most 


EDGE-TOOLS. 


obnoxious  third  in  all  their  rambles,  had  he  had 
the  time  to  join  them. 

It  was  a  week  of  ideal  autumn  weather.  One 
night  of  wind  and  rain  might  quench  the  blaze 
of  glory  on  the  hill-sides  ;  but  now  came  day 
after  day  of  perfect  sunshine  lying  on  the  crim- 
son woods,  —  a  wonderful  world  above  and  below  ! 

Madge  had  only  said  to  herself  that  she  was 
very  glad  that  Mr.  Forrester's  visit  had  come  to 
fill  up  this  tedious  time  before  her  husband's  re- 
turn. Her  heart  was  very  sore  between  her  vex-. 
ation  at  his  tone  of  reproof  and  the  under-current 
of  anxiety  lest  after  all  there  might  be  some  seri- 
ous reason  for  his  silence.  So,  beyond  the  en- 
joyment of  a  companion  who  understood  the 
associations  of  her  town  life  as  no  one  about  her 
could  do,  there  was  the  soothing  of  her  vanity  in 
the  constant  attentions  given  by  one  who  knew 
so  well  how  to  make  a  woman  feel  herself  cared 
for  —  better  than  David,  who  stood  waiting  to 
serve  her  with  heart  and  hands,  but  only  for  her 
own  good. 


2/2  FROM    MADGE   TO    MARGARET. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

A    LAST     WALK. 

MR.  FORRESTER  lingered  with  the  beautiful 
days.  It  seemed  impossible  that  each  one 
should  not  be  the  last,  and  he  said  he  was  too 
selfish  to  leave  them  all  to  enjoy  so  much  with- 
out him.  He  wanted  to  be  missed,  and  should 
have  so  much  better  chance  of  that  if  he  waited 
till  the  storm  came  which  was  to  put  an  end  to 
it  all. 

"  Does  that  haze  mean  any  harm  ? "  he  said, 
coming  in  one  afternoon.  "  Let  us  make  sure 
of  the  beautiful  walk  you  told  me  about  to  the 
pond  with  the  queer  name." 

"Oh,  mamma,  and  me  too!  Let  me  go  to 
Sugar-bowl  Pond  !  "  Phil  exclaimed,  with  caresses 
and  capers. 

"  If  Phil  goes,"  his  grandmother  said,  anxiously, 
"  do  not  stay  late.  I  really  think  it  would  be 
better  if  he  did  not  go  at  all  with  his  cold." 

But  what  Phil  wanted,  his  "little  mamma" 
always  wanted  as  well,  and  both  promising  obe- 
dience, which  they  were  equally  liable  to  forget, 
off  they  went. 


A    LAST    WALK.  2/3 

It  was  the  loveliest  of  "October  afternoons,  with 
air  so  soft  that  it  was  difficult  to  believe  that  the 
brown  leaves  through  which  they  rustled  were 
the  memories  of  summer  days  gone  and  past ;  and 
as  they  strolled  on  through  the  wood-paths,  they 
stopped  every  now  and  then  to  feel  the  silence, 
none  the  less  deep  for  the  whispering  in  the  tree- 
tops,  or  now  and  then  the  far-away  sound  of  a 
crow. 

Madge  was  rather  silent,  and  Mr.  Forrester 
suddenly  roused  himself  to  find  he  was  thinking 
whether  this  quiet  enjoyment  of  the  scene  and  his 
companion  together  —  this  feeling  that  for  the  mo- 
ment he  had  all  that  he  could  wish  —  might  possi- 
bly represent  the  married  life  which  he  had  always 
classed  with  the  whist  of  old  age  —  as  something 
to  be  accepted  when  all  keen  enjoyment  was 
over.  Had  he  asked  the  question  and  received 
a  truthful  answer  in  Madge's  present  mood,  his 
day  of  matrimony  would  again  have  taken  its 
place  among  possible  evils  ;  for  she  was  at  that 
moment  in  a  turmoil  of  discontent  upon  which 
his  voice  broke. 

"  When  do  you  expect  Rowland  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  don't  know.  I  had  supposed  it 
would  be  about  this  time,  but  it  is  nearly  three 
weeks  since  I  have  heard  from  him." 

"  We  men  are  bad  correspondents.  I  am  very 
skilful  in  finding  out  just  how  few  lines  will  bring 
me  a  delightful  answer.  I  suppose  one  advan- 
18 


2/4       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

tage  of  being  a  husband  is  to  be  treated'  better 
than  one  deserves." 

"  Jack  was  very  good  about  writing  at  first  ; 
the  last  letter  was  from  Paris,  just  as  he  was 
coming  over  from  England." 

"  Alicia  Morris  met  him  there.  Mrs.  Harrison 
had  a  letter  before  I  left  Newport.  She  reported 
him  well,  and  full  of  kind  attentions  to  her  and 
her  mother*" 

"  I  should  say  then  that  his  letter  was  written 
under  her  dictation." 

"  How  do  you  mean  ? "  Mr.  Forrester  said,  with 
a  look  of  surprise.  "  What  has  Miss  Morris  to  do 
with  you,  or  your  husband  either  ? " 

Madge  felt  that  she  had  committed  herself,  and 
tried  to  answer  carelessly,  —  "  Oh,  nothing  at 
all  ;  it  was  only  that  Jack's  last  letter  was  rather 
fault-finding  ;  Miss  Morris  was  never  any  friend 
of  mine,  and  if  Jack  had  been  much  with  her  he 
might  have  had  some  idea  suggested  by  her  —  it 
really  was  nothing,  but  it  was  the  last  time  I 
heard,  and  I  thought  he  would  have  written  to 
make  up,  as  children  say." 

Her  voice  grew  tremulous,  and  she  turned  her 
head  away  to  try  that  no  tear  should  slip  down 
and  betray  her.  Mr.  Forrester  laid  his  hand  on 
hers  ;  it  was  really  an  involuntary  action  on  his 
part  ;  she  looked  so  grieved,  and  it  pleased  her 
to  receive  the  little  act  of  tenderness  which 
soothed  away  troubles  with  her  as  in  a  child. 


A    LAST    WALK.  2/5 

"  That  woman  is  a  true  cat  ;  her  first  impulse 
is  to  scratch  !  She  was  much  provoked  with  Mrs. 
Harrison  for  giving  up  the  plan  to  come  out  and 
join  her,  and  I  dare  say  had  spiteful  things  to  say 
of  us  all.  But  I  thought  Rowland  knew  her  too 
well  to  be  influenced." 

"  Oh,  no,  he  would  not  really ;  but  something 
might  be  left  to  sting.  Don't  you  know  how  it 
is  when  you  are  away,  and  cannot  speak  at  once 
and  have  it  all  over  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  know  ! "  he  said  almost  gruffly. 
"  You  married  people  astonish  me  with  your  half- 
way confidences.  When  one  has  never  seen  the 
right  person,  —  or  the  one  it  was  possible  to  have, 
—  it  is  very  difficult  to  imagine  being  married  at 
all  ;  but  if  I  did  care  for  a  woman,  no  Alicia 
Morris  could  make  me  misunderstand  her." 

In  his  vehemence  he  dropped  her  arm  and 
moved  a  step  or  two  away  from  her,  apparently 
for  no  reason  but  to  switch  at  some  dried  bushes 
with  his  cane.  She  stood  still,  rather  confounded 
with  herself  and  the  little  storm  of  wrath  she  had 
raised.  The  sympathy  was  delightful  to  her,  but 
she  did  not  mean  to  be  unjust  to  her  husband. 
They  walked  on  again,  and  he  returned  to  give 
her  his  arm. 

"  Excuse  me,"  he  said  presently,  "  but  this  is 
rather  a  strong  point  with  me,  though  I  am 
called  very  unsusceptible  ;  but  what  I  imagine 


2/6       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

I  should  be  is  very  different  from  most  of  the 
husbands  I  see." 

"  I  can't  tell  you  how  wrong  I  think  I  have 
been,"  Madge  said,  looking  very  lovely  in  her  ear- 
nestness "  to  have  made  you  blame  Jack.  What 
he  said  would  have  been  no  matter  if  I  had  been 
there  to  answer  —  but  it  rankles  now,"  —  with  a 
long,  quivering  sigh. 

"  I  don't  blame  him.  I  only  wonder,  and  I 
suppose  I've  no  right  to  do  even  that.  As  for 
myself,  I  always  thought  that  I  would  do  one  of 
two  things  :  live  as  I  do,  and  have  a  fairly  happy 
life  of  it  so  long  as  the  machine  was  in  good  run- 
ning order,  or  I  would  make  one  woman  as  happy 
as  it  seems  to  me  very  few  women  are.  It's  in 
me  to  do  it,  I  do  believe." 

"  I  suppose  we  all  start  with  that  idea,"  she 
said  sadly,  "  and  then  we  slip  farther  and  farther 
away  from  one  another,  till  it  seems  impossible 
ever  to  come  back  to  being  what  we  were  in  the 
beginning.  Keep  your  ideal,  Mr.  Forrester ;  it 
will  not  be  in  the  least  what  you  expect  —  Oh, 
why  do  I  talk  so  to  you  ?  But  I  do  feel  so  lonely 
and  unhappy  to-night  ! " 

They  had  come  out  upon  the  pond  and  were 
standing  by  the  old  tree,  with  all  its  associations 
of  her  girl's  life,  and  of  the  times  when  she  had 
gone  there  with  her  husband,  when  the  perfect 
love  which  she  declared  now  to  be  impossible 


A    LAST    WALK.  2"J"J 

seemed  a  thing  for  eternity  —  and  covering  her 
face  with  her  hands  she  burst  into  tears.  She 
did  not  see  her  companion's  face  of  intense  feel- 
ing. He  was  thinking  how  possible  all  things 
would  seem,  if  only  some  woman  cared  so  much 
for  him,  —  or  if  this  one  woman  were  his  to  win. 
He  drew  her  hands  from  her  face,  and  his  hand 
rested  ever  so  lightly  on  her  shoulder  as  he  said 
in  a  low  voice  : 

"  How  can  you  believe  that  any  man  who  has 
cared  for  you  once,  will  ever  love  you  less  ?  " 

She  looked  up,  and  even  through  her  tears  saw 
the  look  at  which  her  woman's  instinct  took  af- 
fright. She  might  be  unhappy,  longing  for  sym- 
pathy, doubtful  of  Jack's  love,  but  she.  wanted 
none  other  ;  and  he  saw  the  expression  of  confi- 
dence die  out  of  her  face  and  the  terror  come 
into  it,  and  he  wished  the  lightning  had  struck 
his  lips  before  he  had  uttered  the  words  which 
brought  it  there,  when  a  cry  broke  in  the  air,  a 
child's  cry  of  agony,  —  "  Mamma  !  mamma  !  " 

Phil  had  been  running  before  them  in  the  woods, 
threading  in  and  out  among  the  trunks,  followed 
by  his  familiar,  the  great  black  Newfoundland,  old 
Bose,  who  was  living  out  his  latter  days  in  digni- 
fied though  rheumatic  retirement,  but  never  too 
stiff  to  run  at  little  Phil's  call.  The  child  had  gone 
on  out  of  sight,  but  never  out  of  hearing,  calling 
back  to  be  sure  that  his  mother  was  near ;  and 


2/8        FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

Madge  would  have  said  that  it  was  but  a  few  mo- 
ments before  that  she  had  heard  and  answered  him  ; 
but  feeling  outstrips  time,  and  she  had  been  too 
engrossed  with  her  own  emotions  to  know  how 
long  it  was  since  she  had  heard  his  voice.  The 
cry  from  the  willow-tree  was  followed  by  a  splash. 
Phil  had  run  on  to  climb  into  the  tree  and  sur- 
prise his  mother  by  calling  from  his  hiding-place  ; 
but  the  stepping  from  bough  to  bough  was  so 
easy,  even  for  him,  that  he  ventured  on  till  one 
treacherous  branch,  hanging  far  over  the  water, 
gave  way.  It  was  but  a  moment,  for  the  dog  had 
seized  him  by  the  frock  even  before  Mr.  Forres- 
ter could  reach  him  and  carry  him  in  his  arms  to 
the  mother,  who  sat  upon  a  tree-trunk,  white 
and  speechless  almost  as  her  child.  Phil's  eyes 
were  closed  ;  but  as  he  felt  his  mother's  arms 
about  him,  he  lifted  his  lids,  and  though  they 
dropped  again,  the  look  brought  back  her  cour- 
age. 

"  Come,"  she  said,  "  there  is  a  short  way  back  ; " 
and,  wrapping  him  in  her  shawl,  she  gave  him  to 
Mr.  Forrester,  and  they  hurried  along  the  home- 
ward path.  Once  Forrester  looked  at  her,  but 
her  face  was  so  white  and  changed  that  he  bent 
his  head  over  the  little  fellow  in  his  arms,  though, 
as  he  heard  her  panting  breath  by  his  side,  he 
longed,  but  did  not  dare,  to  offer  her  some  support. 
As  they  came  upon  the  farm-house  green,  she  ran 


A    LAST    WALK.  2/9 

forward,  hoping  to  spare  her  mother  a  shock,  if 
possible,  and  there  stood  David,  holding  up  a 
letter. 

"  A  telegram  !  your  husband  well,  and  on  his 
way !" 

The  next  moment  he  stopped,  aghast  at  the  sight 
of  Mr.  Forrester,  dripping,  with  Phil  motionless 
in  his  arms.  Madge's  face  was  announcement 
enough  of  something  painful,  but  Phil  was  safe 
with  her  mother,  and  for  the  moment  she  could 
do  nothing  more,  and  dropped  senseless  upon  a 
chair.  Forrester  would  not  leave  the  room  till 
she  could  speak  and  move  again  ;  and  he  felt  as  if 
his  punishment  had  come,  when  he  saw  her,  as  she 
tried  to  say  a  few  words  of  thanks  to  him,  visibly 
shrink  and  turn  towards  her  sister  as  from  some 
intolerably  painful  object.  He  refused  all  offers 
of  dry  clothes  or  help  ;  would  only  take  an  over- 
coat ;  and  rushed  off  to  his  hotel,  saying: 

"  I  may  come  in  the  morning  to  see  how  he  is, 
and  say  good-bye  ?"• 

She  made  an  assent  without  word  or  look. 

Phil  was  tossing  in  a  feverish  sleep  before 
his  mother  closed  her  eyes.  The  telegram  said  : 
"  Have  been  ill ;  all  right  again  ;  sail  to-day  per 
Samaria."  And,  beside  her  fright  and  anxiety, 
there  was  enough  to  think  of  in  the  meeting  with 
her  husband  to  make  her  wonder  if  she  was  ever 
to  feel  peacefully  happy  again. 


28O       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

The  next  day,  both  Phil  in  his  crib,  and  his 
mother  sitting  by  him,  looked  ill  and  worn  ;  but 
the  doctor  spoke  cheerfully,  and  said  he  thought 
no  harm  had  been  done  ;  if  it  had  not  been  for 
the  heavy  cold  which  was  upon  the  child  he 
should  fear  no  ill  effects ;  and  Phil  was  cross 
enough  to  encourage  the  most  anxious  watcher. 
In  the  course  of  the  morning  Rachel  came  in  to 
say  that  Mr.  Forrester  was  in  the  parlor  waiting 
to  see  her ;  he  was  on  his  way  to  the  train,  and 
very  much  afraid  of  disturbing  her,  but  Rachel 
was  sure  that  she  would  want  to  speak  to  him  a 
moment.  Madge  gave  up  her  seat  to  Rachel 
without  speaking,  and  went  down.  Mr.  For- 
rester was  standing  by  the  parlor-window,  look- 
ing out  over  the  flowers.  No,  he  said,  he  would 
not  sit  down  ;  he  had  only  come  to  know  how  the 
dear  little  fellow  was;  and  Miss  Anderson  had 
told  him  that  she  thought  there  was  no  real 
cause  for  anxiety.  Madge  tried  to  speak  cheer- 
fully ;  Phil  was  doing  nicely ;  but  her  nerves 
were  thoroughly  unstrung,  and  it  was  hard  to 
keep  back  the  tears  with  which  she  had  been 
struggling  all  the  morning,  while  she  did  her  best 
to  amuse  her  child. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  leave  you  relieved  of  anxi- 
ety about  your  husband,"  he  said  ;  "  and  I  hope 
that  Phil  will  be  as  well  as  ever  in  a  day  or  two." 
And  as  he  saw  how  hard  it  was  for  her  to  answer, 


A    LAST    WALK.  28 1 

he  hurried  on  :  "  And  soon  you  will  be  back  in 
town  ;  and  —  I  doubt  if  I  shall  be  there  myself; 
but  I  hope  you  will  have  a  delightful  winter." 

Something  must  be  said  if  she  was  ever  to  for- 
give herself,  and  she  would  speak. 

"  I  did  very  wrong  yesterday  if  I  made  you 
think  that  my  husband  was  anything  but  the  best 
and  kindest.  I  know  that  I've  not  been  all  I 
might ;  but  I  shall  be.  No  woman  could  ask  for 
more ;  and  he  is  everything  to  me." 

The  words  had  come  almost  in  gasps,  but  she 
had  said  it,  and  she  saw  that  he  believed  her. 

"  You  will  be  a  very  happy  woman  yet ;  you 
have  all  the  materials  for  the  happiest  of  homes  ; 
don't  waste  them."  Then  very  earnestly,  and  for 
the  first  time  looking  at  her,  he  took  her  hand. 
"  And  you  do  believe  how  much  I  care  that  it 
should  be  so  ;  you  will  think  of  me  as  a  friend  ?" 

Her  face  brightened  instantly,  and  with  a  re- 
turn to  her  own  frank  manner,  she  said : 

"  Indeed,  I  believe  it ;  you  have  been  very  kind 
to  me,  and  I  could  not  part  with  your  friend- 
ship." 

"It  is  yours  for  always,  as  true  as  ever  broth- 
er's was.  Trust  me,"  he  said  ;  and  was  gone  with- 
out another  word. 

Rachel  could  not  help  wondering  why  Madge 
did  not  recover  her  spirits,  with  the  knowledge 
that  her  husband  was  so  near  home ;  she  ac- 


282       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

counted  for  it  by  the  shock  to  her  nerves  caused 
by  the  accident ;  but,  in  truth,  the  poor  child  was 
struggling  with  a  new  sense  of  responsibility  as 
to  what  she  ought  to  do.  In  the  simple  life  of 
her  early  days,  duty  had  come  to  Madge  as  some- 
thing that  might  quite  as  well  be  done  by  Rachel 
(who  did  not  mind  it)  as  by  herself,  who  did  ;  then, 
when  she  began  with  all  her  new  experiences, 
and  had  no  Rachel  to  look  to,  —  not  even  another 
woman  whose  advice  she  could  ask,  —  it  lay  be- 
tween Jack  and  his  father  to  decide  any  doubtful 
question.  And  as  the  opinion  of  the  elder  Mr. 
Rowland  was  always  given  on  the  side  of  what 
would  be  most  pleasant,  and  to  dispute  it  in- 
variably led  to  uncomfortable  discussion,  which 
Madge  detested  with  all  other  disagreeables,  —  sp 
it  always  ended  by  her  doing  as  she  liked,  with 
an  unwilling  consent  from  Jack,  which  appeased 
her  conscience.  But  now  had  come  a  question 
which  even  her  cowardice  could  not  refer  to 
Rachel,  and  back  and  forth  she  argued  it  till  she 
felt  as  if  she  no  longer  knew  right  from  wrong. 
If  to  relieve  herself  she  unburdened  her  mind  to 
Jack,  would  not  she  be  doing  an  equal  wrong  to 
Mr.  Forrester  by  betraying  the  error  of  which  he 
had  shown  himself  so  repentant  ?  After  all,  she 
had  led  him  on  by  her  weakness,,  and  how  could 
she  confess  to  her  husband  that  she  had  com- 
plained of  him  to  another  man  ?  When  she  thought 


A    LAST    WALK.  283 

of  herself  as  finding  courage  to  speak,  she  could 
not  imagine  in  what  words  it  should  be  clone. 
But  before  she  could  settle  with  herself  what 
should  be  said  or  left  unsaid,  every  personal  feel- 
ing was  merged  in  anxiety  for  Phil,  who  suddenly 
grew  worse. 

When  the  day  came  for  Jack's  arrival,  her  only 
thought  was  of  him  and  the  sorrow  to  which  he 
was  coming.  And  when  he  did  come,  she  almost 
felt  that,  in  casting  off  the  burden  of  responsi- 
bility, the  cause  grew  less.  Phil  must  mend  with 
his  father's  skill  ;  she  had  known  him  do  such 
wonderful  things  for  people  for  whom  he  cared 
nothing,  that  now  he  could  not  fail. 

At  first  it  seemed  as  if  it  might  be  so ;  for  the 
child,  who  had  been  lying  in  a  feverish  stupor  all 
day,  at  the  sound  of  his  father's  voice  roused  him- 
self, and  a  gleam  of  brightness  came  into  the 
heavy  eyes. 

"  I  felled  into  the  water,  papa,"  he  whispered, 
between  the  short,  quick  breaths. 

"  Yes,  my  darling,"  his  father  said,  thinking 
that  he  was  wandering;  "but  you  are  all  safe 
now  ;  and  papa  is  at  home  to  take  care  of  his 
boy." 

"  I  wanted  to  'prise  mamma,  and  I  hided  in  the 
tree,  and  then  I  tumbled  down.  Mr.  Follester 
pulled  me  out,  and  he  was  all  wet."  The  feeble 
voice  died  away  as  Dr.  Rowland  looked  at  his 


284       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

"  What  does  he  mean  ?  what  had  Mr.  Forrester 
to  do  with  it  ? " 

"  He  was  walking  with  us,  and  took  Philly  out 
of  the  water  and  brought  him  home." 

She  had  had  no  intention  of  concealing  the.  fact 
of  Mr.  Forrester's  coming  to  Hartfield,  and  she  was 
too  confused  to  know  if  the  expression  of  his  face, 
or  the  look  with  which  he  turned  towards  the 
bed,  was  caused  by  anything  but  the  sight  of  his 
suffering  child.  But  this  she  did  know :  that  in 
the  days  which  followed,  even  in  the  midst  of  her 
terrible  anxiety,  there  was  a  want,  an  intense 
craving  for  the  something  in  her  husband's  man- 
ner to  her,  which  had  always  been  there  before, 
and  was  not  now.  It  was  not  that  there  was  any 
lack  of  consideration  or  careful  watching  lest  she 
should  be  over-tired ;  but  then  he  showed  the 
same  to  Rachel,  and  she  did  not  think  it  could  be 
all  her  jealous  fancy,  which  made  it  seem  to  her 
as  if  he  avoided  any  opportunity  for  talking  to 
her  outside  of  the  sick-room,  where  there  was  but 
one  thought  for  them  all. 

There  were  days  of  watching,  when  it  seemed 
as  if  any  moment  might  end  the  life  of  this  little 
child.  Such  a  short  life !  and  yet  with  it  would 
pass  away  happiness  which,  in  its  perfection, 
could  never  come  again  to  father  or  mother. 
Then  a  dawn  of  hope,  almost  too  pale  to  believe, 
that  the  night  of  despair  was  over  ;  and  then 


A    LAST    WALK.  285 

a  day,  when  the  shrewd  old  country  doctor,  to 
whom  all  belonging  to  the  Andersons  came  next 
to  his  own,  wrung  Dr.  Howland's  hand,  and  said, 
with  tears  in  his  eyes,  "  With  the  Lord's  help,  sir, 
I  do  believe  we've  pulled  him  through  ! " 

A  sense  of  peace  and  rest  seemed  to  settle 
down  over  the  whole  household.  Rachel,  from 
the  window,  saw  her  father  evidently  discussing 
farm  affairs  with  one  of  his  workmen,  his  hands  in 
his  pockets,  and  a  generally  easy  air,  as  if  the  world 
was  of  some  interest  to  him  again  ;  and  in  the 
nursery  her  mother  was  knitting  by  the  fire, 
while  Susan's  one  pair  of  vigilant  eyes  were  con- 
sidered guard  enough  over  the  child,  who  was 
lying  quietly  asleep.  She  supposed  that  Madge 
and  her  husband  were  together  ;  but  on  going  to 
her  own  room  she  found  the  door  between  the 
two  rooms  open,  and,  looking  in,  saw  Madge  — 
not  resting  comfortably  in  the  easy-chair,  but 
sitting  on  a  low  stool  by  the  fire.  Her  attitude 
was  so  forlorn,  with  her  head  resting  against  the 
chimney-piece,  and  her  hands  lying  idly  in  her 
lap,  that  she  looked  more  like  a  weary  child  her- 
self, than  a  mother  rejoicing  over  the  recovery  of 
her  first-born. 

"  I  thought  that  your  husband  was  with  you," 
she  said. 

"  No  ;  I  don't  know  where  he  is.  He  went 
down  stairs  with  the  doctor,  and  I  heard  the  door 
shut.  I  think  he  must  have  gone  to  walk." 


286       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

"  I  wish  you  would  lie  down.  You  are  not 
resting,  and  you  ought  to  be  making  up  your 
strength.  Your  husband  will  need  you." 

"  I  don't  fhink  he  needs  me  any  more,"  Madge 
said,  without  turning  her  eyes  from  the  fire. 
Rachel  sat  down  near  and  rested  her  sister's 
head  upon  her  knee.  The  voice  had  sounded 
very  dry  and  hard;  but  as  Rachel  stroked  her 
cheek  her  hand  was  wet  with  tears. 

"  If  anything  has  gone  wrong  between  you  and 
Jack  you  must  speak  to  him,  Madge,  honestly. 
Don't  keep  anything  back.  I  will  never  believe 
that  the  truth  will  not  clear  away  everything  be- 
tween people  who  really  love  each  other." 

"  If  he  does  love  me  —  if  I  was  sure  of  that  — 
I  think  I  should  not  be  so  afraid  of  him." 

"Do  you  think  that  is  fair  to  your  husband, 
Madge  ?  I  am  sure  you  would  think  it  was  a 
slur  upon  you  if  he  could  say  that.  Why,  it 
means  that  you  do  not  trust  his  kindness  and 
good  heart,  even  if  you  have  done  wrong." 

"  I  do  think  he  is  afraid  of  its  not  being  in  me 
to  do  right.  Oh,  Rachel !  if  you  will  only  prepare 
the  way  for  me.  Tell  him  —  " 

"  No,  Madge,  I  will  tell  him-  nothing.  I  don't 
even  want  to  know  what  is  wrong,  for  I  have  no 
right  to  hear.  When  he  was  away  it  was  natural 
for  you  to  come  to  me  for  advice  ;  but  no  one, 
not  even  I,  must  come  between  you  and  him 


A    LAST    WALK.  287 

now.  And  what  is  the  good  of  my  advice  ?  That 
is  not  what  your  husband  wants.  „  It  is  that  you 
should  do  what  he  wishes,  and  because  you  love 
him." 

"  And  he  will  be  very  kind,  and  will  give  a 
long  sigh,  and  1  shall  know  that  he  is  thinking 
how  soon  he  will  have  to  go  through  the  same 
thing  again.  He  does  not  even  think  it's  worth 
while  to  quarrel  with  me." 

"Then,  dear,  if  you  have  anything  to  reproach 
yourself  with,  I  should  think  that  was  a  very 
mild  punishment.  No,  Madge  ;  if  you  feared  to 
have  the  most  terrible  scene  to  go  through,  I 
should  say  do  it,  and  remember  that  the  only 
happiness  that  is  worth  your  having  depends 
on  it." 

"  And  you  won't  help  me,  Rachel  ?  " 

"  Not  with  one  word,  darling.  But  I  will  tell 
you  what  I  will  do :  and  that  is,  help  you  on  to 
the  lounge  and  get  you  to  sleep.  Tired  as  you 
are  now  you  can  see  nothing  as  it  is." 

Madge  was  too  worn  out  to  dispute,  and  let 
herself  be  comfortably  settled  with  a  warm  wrap 
over  her,  and  the  fire-light  shaded,  before  Rachel 
sat  down  to  soothe*her  off  to  sleep  by  reading  in 
her  quiet  voice,  —  what,  Madge  did  not  know  ;  she 
only  had  a  sense  of  being  cared  for  and  helped 
even  by  her  sister's  presence.  A  dreamy  hope 
came  over  her  that  all  might  some  time  be  well ; 
and  the  tired  eyes  closed. 


288  FROM    MADGE    TO    MARGARET. 

When  good  Dr.  Green  gave  Jack's  hand  a 
parting  wring,  and  jumping  into  his  old  chaise 
jogged  off  with  the  broad  smile  on  his  face, 
which  was  always  known  in  the  neighborhood  to 
mean  good  news,  he  left  behind,  as  he  thought, 
the  happiest  of  fathers  ;  and  indeed  Jack  himself 
marvelled  to  find  that  it  was  not  so.  His  boy,  the 
delight  of  his  eyes,  was  out  of  danger  ;  would  in 
all  probability  soon  be  as  well  as  ever ;  and  here 
he  stood  feeling  that  the  setting  sun  meant  the 
coming  on  of  as  dark  a  night  of  trouble  as  he  had 
felt  in  the  worst  of  their  anxiety,  and  with  the 
added  trial  of  loneliness  in  his  heart. 

While  their  child  was  in  danger,  he  and  his 
wife  had  at  least  their  sorrow  in  common ;  but 
now  she  seemed  farther  away  from  him  than  when 
the  Atlantic  was  between  them.  The  letter, 
written  in  her  first  irritation  at  what  she  consid- 
ered the  dictatorial  tone  of  his  from  Paris,  was 
full  of  the  elements  of  discord.  She  resented  his 
wishing  to  choose  her  friends  ;  showed  that  she 
had  given  up  the  visit  to  Newport  simply  to 
please  Rachel ;  and  asserted  her  right  to  be 
trusted  to  do  as  she  liked.  This  was  read  by  him 
as  soon  as  he  was  sufficiently-  recovered  from  his 
short  but  sharp  attack  of  fever  to  attend  to  any 
of  his  own  affairs  ;  and  as  soon  as  possible  after- 
wards he  sailed  to  arrive  at  home  and  find  — 
what  was  the  absolute  truth,  and  yet  not  as  bad 


A    LAST    WALK.  289 

as  it  seemed  —  that  Madge  had  renewed  her  in- 
timacy with  Mr.  Forrester,  and  that  it  had  even 
led  to  endangering  her  child's  life ;  for  the  acci- 
dent had  apparently  happened  when  she  had 
been  too  engrossed  with  him  to  attend  to  Phil. 
And  now  was  it  worth  while  to  attempt  any  ex- 
planation with  her  ?  Certainly  not,  if  her  mood 
was  the  same  in  which  she  wrote,  for  words 
would  only  lead  to  misunderstanding.  Even  to 
Rachel  he  could  not  talk  on  this  subject ;  at  least 
not  yet.  Something  in  her  manner  made  him 
feel  that  she  was  in  sympathy  with  him,  and  he 
never  doubted  that  her  influence  had  been  for  the 
best,  as  far  as  Madge  would  submit.  But  what 
could  any  one  do  if  Madge's  love  for  her  husband 
was  not  power  enough  ?  No !  If  blame  there 
was,  let  it  rest  with  him  who  had  not  stayed  at 
his  post. 

Deep  in  these  wretched  doubts  and  regrets  he 
wandered  on,  and  turning  in  at  the  Lees'  avenue, 
thought  it  would  at  least  be  a  relief  from  his  own 
trouble  to  give  his  aunt  Fanny  the  happiness  of 
hearing  the  good  news  about  Phil.  It  would  be 
an  easement  of  his  pain,  he  thought,  just  to  see 
her  pleasant  face  light  up  in  sympathy  with  his 
joy  about  his  child,  even  if  he  could  not  ask  for 
comfort  in  the  worse  pain  which  lay  behind.  He 
was  glad  to  find  Mrs.  Lee  alone.  Her  book  had 
just  been  laid  aside,  and  she  was  ready  for  a  talk 


290       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

with  him  over  the  fire,  thankful  indeed  when  she 
found  what  his  errand  was.  He  sat  down  and 
told  her  all  the  particulars  she  was  interested  to 
hear.  She  and  Helen  ha^  been  at  the  farm-house 
every  day  with  offers  of  assistance,  but  there  had 
been  very  few  moments  to  spare  from  the  sick- 
room, and  now  Mrs.  Lee  was  glad  to  see  and  talk 
quietly  with  her  nephew  ;  and  she  hoped  to  know 
something  about  himself;  for  she  had  thought 
him  not  looking  well  (though  there  was  enough 
to  account  for  that  in  his  own  recent  illness),  and 
there  was  an  anxiety  on  her  mind  which  she 
would  be  glad  to  have  set  at  rest. 

Everything  connected  with  Phil  told,  Dr.  How- 
land  sat  silent,  leaning  back  in  his  chair  gazing 
into  the  fire.  Fixed  as  his  eyes  were  on  the 
flaming  logs,  Mrs.  Lee  could  watch  him  unob- 
served, and  what  she  saw  did  not  make  her 
trouble  less.  There  had  always  been  in  Jack's 
face  a  likeness  to  his  father,  as  she  remembered 
him  during  her  sister's  life  ;  a  handsome  man  — 
very  handsome  to  those  who  did  not  know  what 
harshness  the  large  gray  eyes  and  finely  modeled 
mouth  were  capable  of  expressing.  But  in  the 
son's  face  the  resemblance  had  been  so  tempered 
by  the  traits  inherited  from  his  mother,  that  she 
had  never  thought  before  of  the  possibility  that 
circumstances  might  develop  something  lying 
hidden  till  an  evil  moment  should  bring  it  out. 


A    LAST    WALK.  2QI 

Yet  there  it  was,  as  he  looked  blankly  before  him 
with  eyes  which  saw  only  the  images  of  his 
thoughts,  and  lips  tight  set  to  hold  back  the 
fierce  something  with  which  he  was  strusrdinsr 

<-*  oo         o 

within.  No !  She  would  not  believe  that  any 
possibility  of  life  could  turn  her  favorite  Jack, 
whom  she  had  loved  as  a  boy  of  her  own,  into 
anything  like  the  harsh  tyrant  whose  mere  line 
and  trick  of  feature  he  had  inherited.  But  she 
must  rouse  him  and  break  up  the  resemblance. 

"  Madge  must  be  quite  worn  out,"  she  said. 
"  She  will  feel  her  fatigue  now  that  the  strain  is 
taken  off." 

"  Yes.  I  hope  she  is  lying  down.  I  left  her 
with  Rachel  when  I  came  down  stairs  to  talk 
with  Dr.  Green,  and  then  I  thought  I  would  come 
here  to  relieve  your  mind.  Rachel  will  be  sure 
to  take  care  of  her." 

Grateful  as  Mrs.  Lee  was  for  his  thought  of 
her,  she  would  rather  it  should  have  been  given 
to  his  wife.  It  seemed  so  unnatural  that  at  this 
moment  the  two  should  not  be  rejoicing  together. 

"  You  must  watch  her  carefully,  and  not  let  her 
begin  the  winter  life  before  she  is  fit  for  it.  And, 
Jack,  I  do  not  think  you  are  looking  over-well 
yourself." 

"Oh,  I  shall  be  all  right  now.  My  fever  and 
the  voyage  and  this  anxiety  have  made  a  heavy 
pull  upon  me.  But  my  health  is  all  right." 


2Q2       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

There  was  a  little  emphasis  on  the  word  health 
which  made  Mrs.  Lee  hope  that  something  more 
was  coming,  and  she  did  not  speak  directly. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  he  said,  and  paused,  then  went 
on  as  by  a  sudden  impulse  :  "  I  am  afraid  my  poor 
little  wife  and  I  need  some  treatment  which  is 
beyond  my  skill  at  least.  Aunt  Fanny,  I  declare 
to  you  I  do  not  know  where  we  stand  at  this 
moment,  but  I  fear  we  are  heading  on  to  some 
great  trouble  " 

"  Then,  my  dear,"  she  said  earnestly,  "  stop 
short  where  you  are  and  find  out  what  the  trouble 
is.  I  don't  believe  in  any  reserve  or  mystery 
coming  between  people  who  love  each  other. 
Go  straight  to  her,  and  say,  '  I  am  not  happy, 
and  you  are  not  happy,  and  I  cannot  live  apart 
from  you.'  She  has  had  a  great  deal  to  learn  in 
these  few  years  ;  and,  Jack,  think  what  a  young 
girl  she  was  when  you  took  her  away  from  her 
home." 

Again  he  waited  before  he  spoke,  and  then 
said  :  "  Aunt  Fanny,  I  do  not  know  if  you  will 
care  to  tell  me  the  truth,  but  I  wonder  if  you 
have  ever  regretted  that  you  did  not  put  an  end 
to  the  whole  matter  the  day  I  came  to  ask  your 
advice.  I  was  very  much  in  love,  but  I  think  I 
should  have  given  her  up  if  you  had  stood  firm 
against  it." 

"  I  can  say  with  truth  that  I  never  have  re- 


A    LAST    WALK.  293 

gretted  it  ;  but  then  it  was  because  I  thought 
your  love  had  so  lasted  that  it  would  carry  you 
through  any  trouble  which  might  come ;  but 
without  that,"  —  she  leaned  forward,  watching 
him  with  intense  anxiety  for  his  answer,  and  with 
a  corresponding  relief  on  her  face,  when  he  said  : 

"  I  could  have  given  her  up  then  ;  now  I  can- 
not. If  her  love  has  gone,  I  must  win  her  back  ; 
but  how  ?  Only  tell  me  what  I  can  do,  or  leave 
undone." 

"  If  you  can  say  that  you  are  unchanged,  I  feel 
equally  sure  that  you  have  lost  none  of  her  affec- 
tion. You  have  nothing  to  win  back  except  her 
confidence  in  your  patience  with  her  failings. 
Always  remember  this,  Jack:  that  you  took  a 
very  great  responsibility  upon  yourself  when  you 
carried  a  girl  of  eighteen  to  share  with  you  a  life 
in  which  she  had  had  -no  experience  whatever. 
If  she  had  stayed  in  Hartfield,  her  sister's  advice 
would  have  been  all  that  was  necessary  to  keep 
her  from  any  mistake  she  could  have  made  ;  but 
Rachel  knew  no  more  than  Madge  of  the  world 
to  which  you  belong.  I  do  not  want  to  dive  into 
your  confidence,  but  I  think  if  you  are  willing  to 
tell  me  something  of  what  has  passed,  that  I  can 
give  you  advice  and  comfort  too  I  have  been 
very  watchful  of  what  has  been  passing  in  these 
last  two  months,  and  hoped  that  the  chance 
would  come  for  me  to  say  a  word." 


2Q4      FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

So  Jack  told  his  story  of  the  slight  misunder- 
standings of  their  early  married  life,  deepening 
as  the  temptations  of  pleasure  and  admiration 
gathered  about  her,  and  ending  with  this  sum- 
mer, and  his  despair  of  ever  making  her  happy  ; 
at  least,  until  Mrs.  Lee  had  given  him  hope. 
And  she  had  not  only  hope,  but  certainty,  from 
what  she  had  seen  of  Madge's  failing  health  and 
spirits  in  his  absence,  and  from  the  few  words  of 
confidence  which  Rachel  had  allowed  herself. 
She  spoke  of  everything,  even  of  Mr.  Forrester's 
coming  to  Hartfield,  and  how  entirely  it  had  been 
without  planning  on  Madge's  part,  though  his 
stay  had  been  aided  and  abetted  by  dear  good 
Mrs.  Anderson.. 

What  she  did  not  tell  was  of  the  visit  she  had 
had  from  Robert  Forrester  himself,  the  evening 
of  little  Phil's  accident.  He  had  come  ostensibly 
to  ask  if  they  had  heard  any  news  from  the  farm- 
house, and,  finding  her  alone,  had  sat  down  by 
the  fire  with  her,  as  Jack  was  doing  now.  The 
conversation  had  rambled  on,  giving  her  an  in- 
sight into  the  man,  touching  her  sympathy,  and 
making  her  wish  more  than  ever  to  put  an  end 
to  possible  complications  dangerous  to  the  hap- 
piness of  others  besides  Jack  and  his  wife.  The 
look  of  repulsion  on  Madge's  face  had  made  For- 
rester feel  that  it  was  her  purity,  not  his  sense 
of  honor,  which  had  been  his  safeguard.  By  that 


A    LAST    WALK.  29$ 

flash  of  light  he  had  read  what  he  might  have 
been,  and  what  was  the  real  charm  of  the  woman 
whom  he  admired  in  her  loyalty  to  her  husband, 
as  never  before.  Though  he  told  her  nothing  of 
what  had  actually  happened,  Mrs.  Lee  felt  that  a 
crisis  in  his  life  had  passed,  and  they  shook 
hands  at  parting,  with  unspoken  sympathy  on 
her  part,  and  on  his,  gratitude  for  a  sense  of  con- 
fidence in  himself  which  she  had  restored  to 
him. 

"  Now  you  must  go,  Jack,"  Mrs.  Lee  said  at 
last.  "  I  should  feel  as  if  I  owed  an  apology  to 
Madge  for  keeping  you,  if  it  were  not  that  you 
have  settled  so  much  in  your  own  mind  since 
you  came  here.  I  am  sure  you  now  understand 
yourself  and  her  much  better.  But  one  thing  : 
don't  let  her  feel  as  if  this  were  the  last  chapter, 
and  you  were  sure  to  live  happy  ever  after  ;  only 
tell  her  that  you  have  love  and  patience  enough 
for  anything  which  may  come. 

Rachel  was  lingering  down-stairs,  watching  for 
him,  Jack  thought  ;  but  her  troubled  look  cleared 
as  he  told  her  where  he  had  been,  and  asked  for 
Madge  in  the  cheery  tone  she  had  not  heard  from 
him  since  his  return. 

"  Madge  was  still  asleep,"  Rachel  told  him  ; 
"  all  was  quiet  in  the  nursery,  and  she  would  not 
rouse  her  from  the  first  sound  rest  she  had  had 
for  so  many  days,." 


296       FROM  MADGE  TO  MARGARET. 

"  I  will  go  and  watch,"  he  said,  "looking  back 
at  Rachel  with  a  smile  which  set  her  heart  at 
rest  for  her  sister's  sake.  When  Madge  waked, 
the  room  was  still,  and  the  firelight  glancing  on 
the  wall  ;  but  as  she  moved,  the  voice  that  spoke 
was  not  Rachel's,  and  her  husband's  arms  were 
about  her. 

"  This  is  my  welcome  home,"  he  said.  "  I  have 
you  to  myself,  and  no  sorrow  between  us." 

Though  she  rested  against  his  shoulder,  her 
face  was  turned  from  him,  and  he  bent  down  to 
hear  her  say,  "  Nothing  between  us,  Jack  ?  Do 
you  mean  that  truly  ?  " 

"  From  the  bottom  of  my  heart  I  mean  this, 
Margaret.  You  and  I  have  both  something  to 
forgive  ;  yes,"  as  she  grasped  his  hand  tighter, 
"  both  of  us.  We  have  made  our  mistakes,  but  I 
believe  we  have  learned  that  the  only  real  unhap- 
piness  is  in  leading  separate  lives." 

Madge  sat  without  speaking.  How  could  she 
accept  his  faith  in  her  till  he  knew  how  her  con- 
temptible vanity  had  perilled  her  right  to  it  ? 
And  yet  she  fell  as  if  she  would  rather  die  dumbly 
by  his  side  at  this  instant  of  reconciliation,  than 
speak  and  feel  his  loving  clasp  loosen,  —  though 
she  should  creep  back  forgiven  ;  that  she  knew. 

A  moment  of  silence,  and  as  with  every  second 
the  weight  crushed  her  lower,  he  lifted  her  face 
towards  his,  and  said,  "  Margaret,  look  straight 


A    LAST    WALK.  297 

into  my  eyes,  and  hear  me  say,  that  whatever  has 
passed  since  we  parted  must  drop  out  of  your 
thoughts,  as  utterly  as  out  of  mine.  I  don't 
mean,  dear,"  as  he  gathered  her  closer  to  his  side; 
"  that  I  expect,  that  I  ask,  -to  find  my  wife 
changed  from  the  girl  I  loved  almost  as  soon  as 
I  knew  her.  Only  promise  me  this,  —  here  in 
my  arms,  —  that  you  wtll  never  fear  me  again,  as 
I  have  seen  you  do  in  these  last  dreadful  days." 

The  promise  was  unspoken,  but  her  husband 
did  not  need  to  hear  her  voice,  or  see  her  face,  to 
know  that  the  heart  beating  against  his  own  would 
never  harbor  an  unloyal  thought  of  him  again. 
And  so  I  leave  the  husband  and  wife,  with  the 
lights  and  shadows  falling  about  them.  Of  the 

o 

two  men  who  loved  her,  David  Anderson  might 
have  had  his  heart  more  perfectly  filled  by 
Madge — the  delight  of  his  life;  but  she  would 
never  have  been  the  Margaret  who  struggled 
with  herself  till  she  reached  the  beautiful  woman- 
hood which,  to  those  who  loved  her,  never  grew 
old. 


THE   END. 


LEE    &    SHEPARD'S 

LIST   OF 

JUVENILE    PUBLICATIONS. 


OLIVER   OPTIC'S   BOOKS. 

Each  Set  in  a  neat  Box  with  Illuminated  Titles. 

Army  and  Navy  Stories.     A    Library  for    Young   and 

Old,  in  6  volumes.    i6mo.    Illustrated.    Pervol $150 

The  Soldier  Boy.  The  Yankee  Middy. 

The  Sailor  Boy.  Fighting  Joe. 

The  Young  Lieutenant.  Brave  Old  Salt. 

Famous  "  Boat-Club  "  Series.  A  Library  for  Young 
People.  Handsomely  Illustrated.  Six  volumes,  in  neat 
box.  Per  vol I  25 

The  Boat  Club ;  or,  The  Bunkers  of  Rippleton. 

All  Aboard  ;  or,  Life  on  the  Lake. 

Now  or  Never  ;  or,  The  Adventures  of  Bobby  Bright 

Try  Again  ;  or,  The  Trials  and  Triumphs  of  Harry  West. 

Poor  and  Proud  ;  or,  The  Fortunes  of  Katy  Redburn. 

Little  by  Little  ;  or,  The  Cruise  of  the  Flyaway. 

Lake   Shore   Series,   The.      Six  volumes.      Illustrated. 

In  neat  box.     Per  vol I  *J 

Through  by  Daylight ;    or,  The  Young  Engineer  of  the 

Lake  Shore  Railroad. 

Lightning  Express  ;  or,  The  Rival  Academies. 
On  Time  ,  or,  The  Young  Captain  of  the  Ucayga  Steamer. 
Switch  Off ;  or,  The  War  of  the  Students. 
Break  Up  ;  or,  The  Young  Peacemakers. 
Bear  and  Forbear;    or,  The    Young  Skipper  of  Lako 

Ucayga. 


LEE  &  SHEPARD'S  JUVENILE  PUBLICATIONS. 

Soldier  Boy  Series,  The.     Three  volumes,  in  neat 

box.     Illustrated.     Per  vol I  50 

The  Soldier  Boy  ;  or,  Tom  Somers  in  the  Army. 

The  Young  Lieutenant ;  or,  The  Adventures  of  an  Army 

Officer. 
Fighting  Joe  ;  or,  The  Fortunes  of  a  Staff  Officer. 

Sailor  Boy  Series,  The.     Three  volumes  in  neat  box. 

Illustrated.     Per  vol I  50 

The  Sailor  Boy;  or,  Jack  Somers  in  the  Navy. 

The  Yankee  Middy ;  or,  Adventures  of  a  Naval  Officer. 

Brave  Old  Salt ;  or,  Life  on  the  Quarter-Deck. 

fftarry  Flag  Series,  The.     Six  volumes.     Illustrated. 

Per  vol I  25 

The  Starry  Flag ;  or,  The  Young  Fisherman  of  Cape  Ann. 
Breaking  Away ;  or,  The  Fortunes  of  a  Student. 
Seek  and  Find  ;  or,  The  Adventures  of  a  Smart  Boy. 
Freaks  of  Fortune  ;  or,  Half  Round  the  World. 
Make  or  Break  ;  or,  The  Rich  Man's  Daughter. 
Down  the  River ;  or,  Buck  Bradford  and  the  Tyrants. 

The   Household    Library.    3  volumes.     Illustrated. 

Per  volume I  50 

Living  too  Fast.  In  Doors  and  Out. 

The  Way  of  the  World. 


Way  of  the  World,  The.   By  William  T.  Adams  (Oliver 

Optic) I2mo  I  50 

Woodville  Stories.     Uniform  with  Library  for  Young 

People.     Six  volumes.     Illustrated.     Per  vol :6mo  I  25 

Rich  and  Humble  ;  or,  The  Mission  of  Bertha  Grant 
In  School  and  Out ;  or,  The  Conquest  of  Richard  Grant. 
Watch  and  Wait ;  or,  The  Young  Fugitives. 
Work  and  Win ;  or,  Noddy  Newman  on  a  Cruise. 
Hope  and  Have  ;  or,  Fanny  Grant  among  the  Indians. 
Haste  and  Waste ;  or,  The  Young  Pilot  of  Lake  ChamplaiUi 


LEE  &  SHEPARD'S  JUVENILE  PUBLICATIONS. 

Yacht  Club  Series.  Uniform  with  the  ever  popular 
"  Boat  Club  "  Series.  Completed  in  six  vols.  Illustrated. 
Pervol .• i6mo  i  50 

Little  Bobtail ;  or,  The  Wreck  oi  the  PenobscoL 

The  Yacht  Club ;  or,  The  Youi.g  Boat  Builders. 

Money  Maker  ;  or,  The  Victory  of  the  Basilisk. 

The  Coming  Wave  ;  or,  The  Treasure  of  High  Rock. 

The  Dorcas  Club  ;  or,  Our  Girls  Arioat. 

Ocean  Born ;  or,  The  Cruise  of  the  Clubs. 

Onward  and  Upward  Series,  The.    Complete  in  six 

volumes.     Illustrated.     In  neat  box.     Porvol I  25 

Field  and  Forest ;  or,  The  Fortunes  of  a  Fam?er. 
Plane  and  Plank ;  or,  The  Mishaps  of  a  Mechanic. 
Desk  and  Debit ;  or,  The  Catastrophes  of  a  Clerk. 
Cringle  and  Cross-Tree ;  or,  The  Sea  Swashes  of  a  Sailor. 
Bivouac  and  Battle  ;  or,  The  Struggles  of  a  Soldier. 
Sea  and  Shore  ;  or,  The  Tramps  of  a  Traveller. 

Young  America  Abroad  Series.  A  Library  of 
Travel  and  Adventure  in  Foreign  La^ds.  Illustrated 
by  Nast,  Stevens,  Perkins,  and  others.  Per  vol.  i6mo  I  50 

First  Series. 

Outward  Bound  ;  or,  Young  America  Afloat 

Shamrock  and  Thistle ;  or,  Young  America  in  Ireland  an* 

Scotland. 

Red  Cross  ;  or,  Young  America  in  England  and  Wales. 
Dikes  and  Ditches ,  or,  Young  America  in  Holland  ai.d 

Belgium.  ,— 

Palace  and  Cottage;  or,  Young  America  m  France  a^ 

Switzerland. 
Down  the  Rhine ;  or,  Young  America  in  Germany. 

Second  Series. 
Up  the  Baltic ;  or,  Young  America  in  Norway,  Sweden,  anl 

Denmark.  ,  „       . 

Northern  Lands  ;  or,  Young  America  in  Russia  an  .«•« 

Cross  and  Crescent ;  or,  Young  America  m  Turkey  a 

Su^nyTh'ores  ;  or,  Young  America  in  Italy  and  Austria. 
Vine  and  Olive  ;  or,  Young  America  in  Spam  and  Portugal 
Isles  of  the  Sea;  or,  Young  America  Homeward  Bound. 


LEE  &  SHEPARD'S   JUVENILE   PUBLICATIONS, 

i    •  f 

Riverdale  Stories.  Twelve  volumes.  A  New  Edition. 
Profusely  Illustrated  from  new  designs  by  Billings.  In 
neat  box.  Per  vcl 

Little  Merchant  Proud  and  Lazy. 

Young  Voyagers.  Careless  Kate. 

Robinson  Crusoe,  Jr.  Christmas  Gift. 

Dolly  and  I.  The  Picnic  Party. 

Uncle  Ben.  The  Gold  Thimble. 

Birthday  Party.  The  Do-Somethings. 

Riverdale  Story  Books*  Six  volumes,  in  neat  box. 
Cloth.  Per  voL 

Little  Merchant.  Proud  and  Lazy. 

Young  Voyagers.  Careless  Kate. 

Dolly  and  I.  Robinson  Crusoe,  Jr. 

Flora  Lee  Story  Books.  Six  volumes  in  neat  box. 
Cloth.  Per  vol 

Christmas  Gift  The  Picnic  Party. 

Uncle  Ben.  The  Gold  Thimble. 

Birthday  Party.  The  Do-Somethings. 

Great  Western  Series,  The.  Six  volumes.  Illus- 
trated. Per  vol I  50 

Going  West ;  or,  The  Perils  of  a  Poor  Boy. 
Out  West ;  or,  Roughing  it  on  the  Great  Lakes. 
Lake  Breezes. 

Our  Boys'  and  Girls'  Offering*  Containing  Oliver 
Optic's  popular  Story,  Ocean  Born  ;  or,  The  Cruise  of  the 
Clubs  ;  Stories  of  the  Seas,  Tales  of  Wonder,  Records 
of  Travel,  &c.  Edited  by  Oliver  Optic.  Profusely 
Illustrated.  Covers  printed  in  Colors.  8vo I  50 

Our  Boys'  and  Girls'  Souvenir.  Containing  Oliver 
Optic's  Popular  Story,  Going  West ;  or,  The  Perils  of  a 
Poor  Boy  ;  Stories  of  the  Sea,  Tales  of  Wonder,  Records 
of  Travel,  &c.  Edited  by  Oliver  Optic.  With  numer- 
ous full-page  and  letter-press  Engravings.  Covers 
printed  in  Colors.  Svo. i  50 

I 


LEE  &  SHEPARD'S  JUVENILE  PUBLICATIONS. 

BY   ELIJAH   KELLOGG. 

Each  Set  in  a  neat  Box. 

Elm  Island  Stories.    Complete  in  six  volumes.    i6mo. 

Illustrated.     Per  vol 125 

Lion  Ben  of  Elm  Island. 

Charlie  Bell. 

The  Ark  of  Elm  Island. 

The  Boy  Farmers  of  Elm  Island.. 

The  Young  Shipbuilders  of  Elm  Island. 

The  Hardscrabble  of  Elm  Island. 

Pleasant  Cove  Series.    Complete  in  six  volumes.    Il- 
lustrated.   Per  vol I  25 

Arthur  Brown,  the  Young  Captain. 
The  Young  Deliverers. 
The  Cruise  of  the  Casco. 
Child  of  the  Island  Glen. 
John  Godsoe's  Legacy. 
Fisher  Boys  of  Pleasant  Cove. 

Whispering  Pine  Series,  The.    Complete  in  six  vol- 
umes.    Illustrated.    Per  vol I  25 

A  Stout  Heart ;  or,  The  Student  from  over  the  Sea. 
The  Spark  of   Genius ;   or,  The  College  Life  of  James 

Trafton.  , , . 

The  Sophomores  of  Radcliffe ;  or,  James  Trafton  and  t 

Bosom  Friends. 

The  Whispering  Pine  ;  or,  The  Graduates  of  Radcliffe. 
Winning  His  Spurs;  or,  Henry  Morton's  First  Trial.  . 

The  Turning  of    the  Tide;    or,  Radcliffe   Rich  and  his 

Patients. 


Forest  Glen  Series.    Complete  in  six  volumes. 

Illustrated.     Per  vol * 

Sowed  by  the  Wind.  Black  Rifle's  Mission. 

W  olf  Run-  Forest  Glen. 

Brought  to  the  Front          Rurying  the  Ilatche 


LEE  &  SHEPARD'S  JUVENILE  PUBLICATIONS. 

BY    SOPHIE    MAT. 

Little  Prudy's  Flyaway  Series.  By  the  author  of 
"Dotty  Dimple  Stories,"  and  "Little  Prudy  Stories." 
Complete  in  six  volumes.  Illustrated.  Per  vol 75 

Little  Folks  Astray.  Little  Grandmother. 

Prudy  Keeping  House.         Little  Grandfather. 
Aunt  Madge's  Story.  Miss  Thistledown. 


Little  Prudy  Stories.  By  Sophie  May.  Complete. 
Six  volumes,  handsomely  illustrated,  in  a  neat  box. 
Per  vol 75 

Little  Prudy. 

Little  Prudy's  Sister  Susy. 
Little  Prudy's  Captain  Horace. 
Little  Prudy's  Cousin  Grace. 
Little  Prudy's  Story  Book. 
Little  Prudy's  Dotty  Dimple. 

Dotty  Dimple  Stories.  By  Sophie  May,  author  of  Lit- 
tle Prudy.  Complete  in  six  volumes.  Illustrated.  Per 
vo1 7S 

Dotty    Dimple    at    her  Dotty  Dimple  at  Play. 

Grandmother's.  Dotty  Dimple  at  School. 

Dotty  Dimple  at  Home.  Dotty  Dimple's  Flyaway. 
Dotty  Dimple  out  West 

The   Quinnebassett    Girls.      i6mo.      Illustrated I  50 

The  Doctor's  Daughter.     i6mo.     Illustrated... . i  50 

Our  Helen.     i6mo.     Illustrated I  50 

The  Asbury  Twins.     i6mo.     Illustrated. I  50 

Flaxie  Frizzle  Stories.   To  be  completed  in  six  volumes. 

Illustrated.     Per  vol 75 

Flaxie  Frizzle. 

Flaxie  Frizzle  and  Doctor  Papa. 

Little  Pitchers. 


